A Third Holmes Brother
by Lisa Smithers
Summary: When Mrs. Holmes calls Sherlock up saying that she's adopted a 14 year old boy, how does Sherlock react? What happens when John finds out that Sherlock's childhood was much, much different than he had thought? -Rated for violence and child-abuse.
1. The News

A/N: Alright, **before you start reading, read this up here!** I've made Sherlock's parents very, very OOC. In fact, they are absolutely nothing like the cannon. Just bear with me, and I'll explain things as the story goes on. I've also used the name "Byron" for Sherlock's father. In this chapter, I have referred to Sherlock's mother simply as "Mrs. Holmes." Thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy my story.

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"Sherlock?" John called out.

"Hmm?" Sherlock hummed, still entranced by his book on the decomposition of bodies.

"It's your mother, she's on the phone and wants to talk to you." John said.

"Tell her I'm very busy with a case." Sherlock said.

"Tried that already, she didn't believe it." John said. Sherlock groaned and put the book down.

"She says to stop groaning." John said. "And not to growl as she knows will come next." Sherlock threw his hands up in the air. He took the phone from John and held it to his ear.

"Yes mother?" Sherlock said, smiling sarcastically to himself, and in an overly sweet voice. John gave him a look tat said, _That's funny, but you really shouldn't do that._

"Alright, yes Mum?" Sherlock sighed. "What do you want?"

"I have some news." Mrs. Holmes said. "And don't you dare hang up this phone! I'm not finished!" Fact was, the phone was already half way to the hook. Sherlock groaned and brought it to his ear once again.

"As you know, my two boys have both left the nest, and Byron and I have been getting very lonely." Mrs. Holmes said.

"The point, please, Mum?" Sherlock said, doing his best to remain polite for the sake of John. John was proud of Sherlock, he was making progress. He wasn't entirely rude when his mum called this time. Mummy didn't call as often as you would expect mothers to. This was the first time in eight months that she had called, the last time being to confirm that Sherlock wasn't actually dead when they received the news that 'The Great Detective' was back. John knew Sherlock and his parents weren't very close at all. His parents had attended his funeral and sent flowers, but they hadn't been there for the visitation, and they didn't stay to watch the casket get lowered into the ground.

John sat in his chair hearing only one side of the battle of wits. Then Sherlock went silent. Concerned, John looked over his shoulder from his position in his chair. Sherlock mumbled a goodbye out of habit before slowly lowering the phone from his ear and staring at it a moment and pressing the end call button.

"Sherlock? Is everything alright?" John asked. Sherlock didn't answer, just stared out at nothing and slowly brought the hand with the phone to his chest while breathing out. His complexion that already resembled that of a vampire paled even more, and the fingers on his left hand all twitched once, in rapid succession, as if he were tapping them on a table. He took deep, measured breaths.

"Sherlock, sit down." John said, rising from his seat. No response.

"Sherlock-" John grasped Sherlock's arm, and pulled him to face him, but Sherlock pulled out of his grip.

"I'm fine- John." Sherlock said. Sherlock walked past John to his chair, where he then sat down. He brought his hands in front of his face, pressing them together. They first went to his chin, then up to his forehead, then back down to his lips in smooth movements. He continued the measured breaths.

"Sherlock, what's happened?" John asked. "Are your parents alright? Did something happen to Mycroft?"

Sherlock shook his head, releasing a breath.

"My family is poisonous John." Sherlock said. "You don't think that, I know you don't. You always think the best of people. That's a good trait. It's something I've always admired about you." Sherlock turned his head and looked John in the eyes.

"But you haven't met them." Sherlock said. "At the funeral, yes, but not really. You didn't actually talk to them did you? They arrived late and left early. You remember, you noticed it, thought it was odd. You attributed it to overwhelming grief, you did. But did you see any tears? Of course not. My family is not one for the sentimental, or the caring in the slightest. Mycroft and I may have turned out half way decent at dealing with human beings if it was, but we're not, and they weren't. I was different from the start and how we were raised, despite their best efforts, did nothing to help that, even made it worse."

"Alright then… So why are you telling me all this now?" John asked. "It's not like you to beat around the brush."

"My parents have adopted another child, John." Sherlock said. "He is to be the 3rd Holmes brother." John's eyes widened.

"So… You've got a new baby brother then…" John said. "Wow- um…"

"No, not baby." Sherlock muttered, just as much to himself as to John. "He's fourteen years old. They've had him for two months now, and never said a word about it to me, but apparently Mycroft knew from the start. He probably even helped to speed up the adoption process."

"And they tell you this through a phone call?" John asked.

"That's not the problem, John." Sherlock said. He was about to go on when John cut him off.

"It really is." John said. "You've had quite a shock, and you're pale as a sheet, though I'm really not quite sure why."

"John-" Sherlock looked John in the eyes, incapable of voicing what he was thinking. He didn't know how. There was so much power in that gaze. So many unspoken words and repressed emotions.

"Tell me what you need, Sherlock." John said.

"I need that boy safe, John." Sherlock said after a moment. His voice shook ever so slightly.

"He's not right now?" John asked. "Why?"

"I told you John," Sherlock said, now much more passively. He seemed to have regained control of himself. "My family is **_poison_**."

"What do you mean?" John asked.

"My parents don't actually want another child, John. It's a fad among the higher ups, adopt a child who came from a bad situation, give them a home, schooling, and manners. It's kind of a game they play to see who is the 'best'. This isn't the first time they've done this. They can't have him, John. They'll ruin him."

"Ruin him?" John asked. "Ruin him how?"

"Look at me John, and note my worst characteristics. My near in ability to empathize, inability to categorize, recognize, and react to even common emotions, difficulty displaying and expressing those emotions, dislike and irritation with social interaction of almost any kind, and excessive arrogance." Sherlock said. "To say all of these traits weren't born in me to a certain extent would be lying of course, but when I was sent to the Holmes family these traits were unintentionally and unknowingly supported to the point that it embedded these traits into my personality."

"So- wait- When you 'went' to the Holmes family?" John asked, thoroughly confused by now.

"I'm not a Holmes by birth, John. I was adopted. " Sherlock said. "I fit in well though, just as cold and heartless as the rest of the lot. That's why I can't let him be my parents' son. It would destroy him."

"So- you're adopted." John said. He still hadn't finished processing that.

"Yes John, keep up!" Sherlock said, letting a little exasperation show through.

"What's your actual last name then?" John asked, after clearing his throat.

"I don't know, I must have deleted it." Sherlock said.

"You deleted your name." John said in disbelief. "Why?"

"John… Where I came from, it was… not good." Sherlock said. "I was young when I moved in with the Holmes, and still stupidly optimistic. I thought things were looking up for me, so I deleted it. Everything about my former home. I had a new one."

"Everything?" John asked, "You deleted everything. You don't remember it a bit now?"

"I do, sometimes John." Sherlock said. "I can never actually delete anything, that's just what I call it when I throw it in the dungeon of my mind palace. That's where I throw bad and/or useless information, but every once in a while, it sneaks out. I don't know how it does, but it does, and I can't always stop it."

"So you do remember it then?" John asked, still confused.

"Parts, John, only parts." Sherlock said.

"Which ones?" John asked.

"Every single one that I don't want to." Sherlock said. "Now back to the point. What in the world am I supposed to do, John? This boy has been through so much already, the last thing he needs is this."

"Well, when are you supposed to meet him?" John asked.

"We're invited for Supper Saturday." Sherlock sighed.

"Pardon, 'we?'" John asked.

"I haven't seen my parents face to face in 12 years, John." Sherlock said. "If I must go you're going with me. Plus, Mum wants to meet the person who's finally befriended her sociopathic son." John raised an eyebrow.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" John asked.

"I don't know, and I don't like not knowing." Sherlock took to pacing back and forth across the room.

"It's alright Sherlock," John said.

 _ **"We'll get through this."**_

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A/N: Any and all OOC-ness in Sherlock's character will be explained in the following chapters. Thank you for reading, and I hope to put up the next chapter soon. Review please!


	2. It is Not a Funeral!

The next few days seemed to pass with excruciating speed, as well as frustrating slowness to Sherlock. He solved two cases in the meantime, both of which would have likely taken the Yard weeks to do on their own.

To most, Sherlock seemed to be his regular self, an arrogant, unfeeling genius. John could see past that though. He had learned to see the nearly imperceptible tics that Sherlock had showing worry nervousness, anticipation, and impatience.

Then, the night came.

"Ready?" John asked, as he tied his tie. No answer. John sighed.

Sherlock sat in his chair, staring at his hands. He raised one up.

"Look at me, John. I'm shaking." Sherlock said. "How pathetic is that? I could stop it if I needed to, but I don't need to, so I can't stop it. It's quite annoying. What am I feeling John?"

"Excitement, anticipation," John paused, taking a drink from the cup of tea on the table. "It's probably anxiety that's doing the shaking though."

"I've got to calm down, John." Sherlock said. "Emotions are clouding my brain."

Sherlock pressed his fingers to his temples and closed his eyes. After a few moments, he lowered his hands and sighed, almost as if in relief.

"All gone." Sherlock said, opening his eyes. "As it should be."

"All gone?" John asked. "Every single emotion, you can just… make it stop?"

"Well, all the bad ones. I kept the good ones." Sherlock said. "The rest I threw out the window."

"You threw them out the window." John repeated.

"Yes, of my mind palace, keep up John." Sherlock said. It was silent for a moment and both focused on getting ready to leave.

"Want me to call a cab?" John asked, already picking up the phone.

"Don't bother." Sherlock said. He walked over to the window and peaked outside through the blinds.

"It appeared my brother has already taken care of that for us."

Outside sat a brand new Hyundai Accent, the keys in the ignition.

"Wanting to ensure our attendance, I assume." Sherlock said. "He probably has it set up to alert him if we don't leave the flat by a certain time."

John sighed. "He really has all the bases covered, doesn't he?" John said. "You do have a license, right?"

"Of course, don't you?" Sherlock said.

"Yes, but I hate driving, and I'm bad at it. Or at least, I am now." John said. John finished off his cuppa and quickly set it in the kitchen sink.

"We should probably get going. Can't leave your family waiting, can we?"

"No, I suppose we can't."

Sherlock sighed.

Sherlock and John came down the stairs just as Mrs. Hudson was going to go up them.

"My, don't both you look dashing today." She commented.

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson, but we don't have much time for chit-chat today. We're in quite a hurry." Sherlock said. "We should be gone most of the day."

"Where are you going?" Mrs. Hudson asked, concerned.

"Not a funeral, as it might look like." John said, sighing down at his clothes.

Sherlock tilted his head, and John knew that tilt enough to know it meant Sherlock thought he was wrong.

"It's not?" Sherlock mumbled, just loud enough for John to hear, then took off towards the car.

"It is not as bad as a funeral, Sherlock." John said. "Stop being a drama-queen!"

Sherlock started towards the car and was already getting in. Going by his appearance, stride, and walking pace, once would have thought he was more limb than trunk.

John turned back to Mrs. Hudson.

"We've been invited over to his parents' house for dinner." He said. "Apparently, they wear suits to supper."

"John?" Sherlock called out from the drivers seat.

"Coming Sherlock!" John said. "Got to go. Bye Mrs. Hudson."

Sherlock honked the horn, and John took off towards the car and pulled himself into the passenger seat.

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A/N: Alright, bonus points to whoever figures out why John is bad at driving. Tell me in reviews, or PM me and I'll tell you if you're right! Don't you just love how nice Sherlock was to Mrs. Hudson? He really does appreciate her, even if he doesn't show it all the time! Oh, and that 'funeral' bit! How'd you like that? I just love inserting humour in random places in a serious story! I makes it much more balanced. I should have the next chapter up very, very soon. It will feature the drive to Sherlock's parents house and the beginning of the time there. Review please!


	3. Secrets Revealed

After several attempts at small talk, John had decided it was best to either remain silent, or come up with something worthy of discussing. He settled on the latter.

"Did they- uh- hurt-" John hesitated, unsure of whether or not he should ask.

"Which ones?" Sherlock asked, obviously having caught onto John's train of thought.

"The Holmes." John clarified.

"Occasionally," Sherlock said, "Not often."

"What about not physically?" John asked. He once again hesitated. "Emotionally?"

"You know I'm not a good judge of that, John." Sherlock answered. He was surprisingly calm considering the subject matter.

"You said earlier, something about them ruining you?" John prompted. "What did you mean?"

Sherlock sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"You know me, I'm not… normal." Sherlock said. "I'm not what they expected, and definitely not what they wanted. They made it obvious, tried to put a square peg in a round hole… I tried to be normal, for awhile I did. I tried to learn manners, tried to get good marks, tried not to get into fights… I tried to be ordinary. But I'm not. No matter how much I would want to be. The Holmes family, as you know, is quite wealthy, powerful, and well known. This is not only due to Mycroft's impact, but due to my parents' as well. They adopted me when it was a fad among the higher ups to take nothing and turn it into something, not different from why they have adopted another boy, my new brother. They want to create a rags to riches story. They tried with me, and when it didn't work, when I wasn't good enough, they let me know. I was expected to take their critiques, criticism, and insults in a calm manner, going over them logically, and trying to apply them. If I got upset, then it was just made worse."

"Made worse?" John asked. "How?"

"Just more yelling, more insults, name calling… nothing important really." Sherlock said, he put his focus on driving for a moment, as they rounded a particularly sharp curve.

"Nothing important- Sherlock, how in the world could you say that wasn't important?!" John asked.

"Because it was better than where I came from." Sherlock said. It was silent for a moment. There was a stillness in the car that was unusual for John and Sherlock.

"What- what did they call you?" John asked quietly.

"The usual, machine, psychopath, weirdo, creep, freak, and a few others I'd prefer not to repeat." Sherlock said. "Nothing I haven't heard since." Another silence, longer this time.

"If that's better than where you came from… what did you come from?" John asked.

"It was more." Sherlock said.

"More?" John asked.

"Just- more."

John had long since figured out that the best way to make Sherlock talk was to say nothing at all. Eventually John's wondering got too loud for Sherlock and he explained.

"There was more, physically." Sherlock said. "Neglect and abuse. Primarily the latter."

"Oh." John said. "How- how bad?"

"I don't really have anything to measure it with." Sherlock said. He sighed and closed his eyes momentarily before opening them again. He trained his eyes on the empty road.

"You mean you were never not-" John hesitated again. For some reason, he could not bring himself to utter the word aloud.

"You can say the word, John." Sherlock said. "I was abused as a child. Not saying the word 'abuse' doesn't mean it didn't happen."

"I was trying to be tactful." John supplied.

"Stop it. You know that doesn't matter to me." Sherlock said. "And yes. For as long as I can remember."

"How old were you when the Holmes adopted you?" John asked.

Sherlock hummed, thinking.

"About… twelve?" Sherlock said. "Something like that."

Suddenly a question popped into John's mind.

"Was Mycroft adopted too?" John asked. To John's surprise, Sherlock let out a dry chuckle. He shook his head.

"No, no, Mycroft's definitely biological." Sherlock said.

"What does he-?" John asked, but again hesitated.

Sherlock squirmed around in his seat and managed to pull his mobile out of his pocket.

He held it out to John.

"Pull up Mycroft's texts to me." Sherlock said. "Anything that's confidential will be encoded, don't worry. Go ahead. Read them."

"You want me to- right, then. Um- alright." John took the phone from Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock was a very private person, and rarely let John in on anything about his past. Now that it was becoming necessary, John was drowning in information, struggling to process it all.

John pulled up the texts between Mycroft and Sherlock. They were filled with vicious criticisms and reprimands for how Sherlock dealt with cases, clients, Scotland Yard, and the Media. Sometimes Mycroft would just insult him for no reason. Other times, he would order Sherlock to show up at a certain time at a certain place.

"If I don't come, he tracks me down." Sherlock said, in answer to John's unspoken question.

"As for what we do, he'll generally yell at me a bit, making absolutely no sense, and then threaten to tell Mum and Dad that I haven't changed my ways, again making no sense."

"How often does he do that?" John asked.

"Eh- at least once a month." Sherlock said. "Often several. Now you know where I go on my 'walks'."

"Your parents, they didn't do that to Mycroft then, did they?" John asked.

"No, just me." Sherlock said. "Mycroft doesn't deserve it. He was a child prodigy turned head of the British government, beneath only the queen herself. Then you've got the other son. The adopted runaway self-employed antisocial high-functioning sociopathic high school drop out drug addict freak; who's never been able to keep a 'real' job, friend, or flat mate, and who can't balance a check book, go to the grocery, cook, clean remember to feed himself, or sleep regularly, and can't even be trusted to be left alone for too long on the risk he might blow something up with chemicals of which he acquired illegally." Sherlock paused to take a breath.

"Not many people are as perfect as Mycroft, and that's what my parents are expecting. Another Mycroft." Sherlock said. "No one can make that standard, believe me, I tried. And when my new brother does, he will fail, they'll be angry with him, and start doing the same thing to him they did to me. Depending on his background, who knows what that could do to him." Sherlock glanced at John through the corner of his eye.

"I can't watch that happen again."

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A/N: Ooh... I wonder what Sherlock meant by that last sentence...

There was a lot revealed in this chapter, I can't wait to tell you more!

The next chapter should be up soon, I've already got it mostly written, so be looking for it!

Hmm... I feel like Moffat and Gatiss now with this cliff hanger... Review please!


	4. Not the First Third

A/N: Stay with me, I know these past few chapters have been more or less information dumps, but I wrote it like that so John would be a little stunned with the suddenness of it all. So just take your confusion and surprise, and transfer it to John's character! Enjoy!

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"Again?" John asked.

"There was already a third Holmes, John." Sherlock said. "They adopted him just a few months after me, don't ask Mum, Dad, or Mycroft about him. We're forbidden to speak of him. They've disowned him. He's dead."

"So they disowned him because he's dead?" John asked, now thoroughly confused.

"No, was the manner in which he died, not the fact." Sherlock said. "He always was the wild child, wilder than me even. He was the one that introduced me to drugs. He had fun doing just about everything he wasn't supposed to. He kept experimenting, taking more and more, until he overdosed. I was there, I told him it was too much, but I didn't stop him. I don't remember why now though. Anyway, he overdosed, I called 999 and tried to save him, but he was gone before the ambulance ever got there. Because of the reason he died, we're no longer aloud to speak of him. My parents are convinced it's bad for the public image." Sherlock rolled his eyes at that. "They refuse to believe he ever existed."

"What was his name?" John asked.

"Deleted it." Sherlock said passively.

"You deleted your own brother's name?" John said in disbelief. "How did you remember the story then?"

"I deleted his name, not the story." Sherlock said. "I always delete the names of the dead, but I keep their stories. That's why I go into my mind palace after a case, and why I refer to them as 'the victim' from then on. It makes it easier to detach myself from the situation."

"So you do, in fact, feel empathy for them?" John asked.

"Not for the victim, no, they're dead. Their families however, of course, you'd have to be inhuman not to. So to look at things objectively and to investigate thoroughly without bias, I delete the name and turn off my empathy. Don't you do that?" Sherlock said.

"Uh- no, I don't." John said. "Most people can't just turn empathy on and off like a tap."

Sherlock hummed.

"I guess I don't switch it off so much as I just… ignore it. I leave it floating around in my Mind Palace." Sherlock said. "I don't really feel it so long as I don't consciously think about it."

"You know Sherlock, to others, it sort of looks like you don't feel empathy at all." John said, cautiously.

"I am aware." Sherlock said.

"Then why don't you explain what you're doing?" John asked.

"Because they never bothered to ask." Several minutes of silence passed before John noticed that Sherlock was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. Not that they were that far from it to begin with though.

"I can't read your mind Sherlock." John said. He could tell Sherlock wanted to speak but had refrained from doing so for some reason.

"I have absolutely no clue how to handle this." Sherlock stated.

"Well, first of all, relax." John said. "You're cutting off blood circulation to your fingers." Sherlock's grip loosened only marginally. John picked his brain for an answer to this problem. After ten minutes, he spoke.

"I think I have an idea." John said. Sherlock looked at him expectantly.

"Chances are, your parents haven't told him much about you, and he won't know what to expect. Try to behave as Mycroftly as possible, but drop the facade when you're alone with him. Be real with him."

"That might actually be worse than if I remained the same way." Sherlock said.

"It will work fine, Sherlock." John said. "People are my thing, not yours. I know how they work. Trust me on this."

"I do."

This was one of those rare moments when Sherlock dropped the arrogant persona and showed his true self. These past few days Sherlock had been the most emotional John had ever seen him. As well as the most stressed.

"Just relax around him." John said. "Just pretend it's just you and me at the flat."

"I can't, John." Sherlock groaned.

"Why not?" John asked.

"Because you're relaxing." Sherlock said.

"Go under the assumption that he is too." John said. "Go in believing that he's going to be your favorite person in the world."

"Hmm…" Sherlock hummed. "One of my favorite people…"

"How many favorite people do you have?"

"Not counting him, two." Sherlock said.

"Who?" John asked.

"You and Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock said.

"Me?" John said, surprised. Sherlock nodded, while squinting ahead at a road sign.

"Why?" John asked.

"Because…" Sherlock hesitated, as if he didn't know the reason. "I don't know, you're just… you."

Sherlock turned the steering wheel to the left

"Almost there." Sherlock said.

Sherlock once again appeared entirely at ease, but John seemed to have learned to recognize a certain tension in him, a certain stiffness that indicated anxiety in the detective. John wished he knew a good way to comfort Sherlock, but the best way he had figured out was to simply be near him. To sit in his chair when Sherlock was in his. Or to sit across the couch or table from him. John wasn't sure why or how this worked, but it did.

"Thank you-" Sherlock said, out of the blue, "for coming with me, I mean."

"Any time." John replied.

Sherlock took a deep breath and pulled into the enormous circle drive.

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A/N: Ooh... Now isn't this an interesting development? Another Holmes brother? Only this one is dead. Why didn't Sherlock stop him from overdosing? What part does Sherlock not remember? What if he deleted it on purpose? And how will Sherlock's **first** meeting with his parents in twelve years go? Reviews please!


	5. And That, Would be a Mansion

"And that, would be a mansion." John said, as he stared up at the gigantic house. "Exactly how rich are your parents?"

"Filthy." Sherlock muttered. "They like to flaunt it too."

John and Sherlock got out and walked up the steps to the solid oak front doors. Sherlock pushed them open to reveal a massive room with showcased white marble stairs.

"Welcome to the ball room." Sherlock sighed. "The sitting/tea room, where they will most likely be right now, is this way."

John followed Sherlock down a long hallway. He was fairly certain his jaw began hanging open when he saw the art work hanging from the walls. Rembrandt, Monet, and Van Goh among other artists seemed to have just dropped off a bunch of their paintings.

"Mycroft likes the Rembrandt, but I prefer the Van Gohs." Sherlock said.

"Are eh- are they real?" John asked. Sherlock nodded and looked up at one of the larger paintings.

"Every last one of them." Sherlock said. "I was obsessed with them for a while, I couldn't find any evidence of forgery."

Sherlock's fingertips hovered above a door knob, after reaching to turn it, but hesitating.

"I'm going to be an entirely different person in there. Expect it." Sherlock warned. "If you act as if this is out of the ordinary, it won't work. Mycroft would pick up on it."

John nodded. Sherlock opened the door and walked into the room, followed by John.

"William, dear, you're late. Why can't you be more punctual like your brother? Come sit by your father. We were just discussing the medal awarded to Mycroft by Xi Jinping, the president of China."

Sherlock's mother turned toward John.

"And you must be my son's colleague, Dr. Watson." Mrs. Holmes said. "Welcome to Holmes manor."

"Yes, thank you Mrs. Holmes. Call me John, please." John said, smiling. Other than the obvious favoritism towards Mycroft, John couldn't really see the problem yet. They seemed to be nice enough people.

"Where's my new brother?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh, he's been up in his room a lot," Mrs. Holmes said. "The transition has been rough on him. He's still getting ready."

John knew Sherlock well enough to see that he did his equivalent to sighing in relief. Mrs. Holmes rang a bell and what appeared to be a maid came running into the room. Literally, running.

"Yes Mrs. Holmes?" She asked.

"Some tea please. Two trays, and get an extra cup for Augustus."

Augustus. So that was Sherlock's new brother's name.

"Shall I fetch him then, Mother?" Mycroft asked, rising from his seat.

"Please do, thank you Mycroft." Mrs. Holmes said.

Mycroft left the room, and Mrs. Holmes and Mr. Holmes started a conversation with John. John noticed that they seemed to be ignoring Sherlock entirely.

They did, as John found out, often call Sherlock names and otherwise insult him, them speaking about him as though he wasn't there. They kept telling John highly embarrassing stories about Sherlock as a child, then immediately there after go on a rant about how Mycroft was in control of practically the entire British government.

Their favoritism was extreme.

"When Byron and I heard he had made it in the detective business we were so shocked, and Byron nearly passed out." Mrs. Holmes said. "The fact that he is actually able to get any case is astonishing. Then again, it is only a matter of time before this whole thing collapses." Mrs. Holmes turned to her husband and started laughing.

"Remember when he wanted to be a chemist?!" She said. Mr. Holmes nodded.

"I am a chemist..." Sherlock said quietly from across the room. His parents didn't even notice that he had spoken. John turned on auto pilot, and just nodded and smiled as he tuned them out. He didn't need to know every mistake Sherlock had made as a child, and he was already reminded enough of Mycroft's achievements, so he didn't want to hear more.

Instead, he focused on Sherlock, and trying to analyze Sherlock's reactions to what was being said.

Sherlock appeared unusually submissive, while at the same time maintaining proper posture and eye contact with the person speaking. His hands rested still in his lap with the exception of the occasional twitch. John recognized this as a sign of his anxiety.

About fifteen minutes later, Mycroft walked into the room with a boy who appeared to be about 14 walking behind him. The boy was wearing a suit, just like all the other males in the room, but like John, he appeared uncomfortable in it.

"Augustus, this is William. Your other brother." Mrs. Holmes introduced. Sherlock stood and walked to the boy, extending a hand.

"A pleasure to finally meet you." Sherlock said.

"Nice to meet you too, William." Augustus said.

John and Sherlock both noted that he had an American accent.

"Augustus, the correct wording is 'A pleasure to meet you as well, William.'" Mrs. Holmes said. "Make sure you remember next time."

Augustus nodded.

"Yes ma'm?" Mrs. Holmes prompted, giving him a stern glare.

"Yes ma'm." Augustus immediately corrected himself.

John not only didn't understand, but Sherlock seemed relieved at the treatment that Augustus was receiving from Mrs. Holmes.

John had thought it a little nit picky and excessive. Sherlock seemed to be thankful it was not worse.

* * *

A/N: Alright, I hope you enjoyed meeting Sherlock's new little brother. Anyway, I'm aware that it seems that Mrs. Holmes wears the pants of the family, but you'll soon figure out the family dynamics. I know Mr. Holmes didn't say much at all, but I'm going for the strong, silent type personality on him. I'll show you more of his personality soon, so don't worry, and watch out! I'm sooooo... looking forward to writing him! Oh, and the third Holmes is American!? How do you think this will turn out? Review Please!


	6. Greece and Worries

"Where might I find the restroom?" John asked, politely as he could. He hated asking that question. John didn't know why, but it just bothered him.

"Up the hall, take the third right, then the second left, and it will be on your right." Mrs. Holmes said. "Augustus can show you."

"And ask what is taking so long while you're near the kitchen would you, Augustus?" Mrs. Holmes said, when they were nearly out the door. "Thirty minutes is unacceptable for just tea."

"Yes ma'm." Augustus said, nodding quickly.

"Good boy." Mrs. Holmes smiled overly sweetly.

John followed Augustus through the massive mansion.

"Right there." Augustus pointed. "Uh- Mr.- Dr. Watson- sir?"

Augustus seemed to be at a loss at how he was supposed to address John.

"Just call me John." John smiled. "I'm not quite as formal as they are, relax."

"Thank goodness." Augustus said. "I've finally found a human."

John chuckled. "Yeah, you have."

* * *

"That was quite well timed, I should think. Don't you agree Byron?" Mrs. Holmes said. "We'd like to speak to you in private anyway."

"I wasn't aware that Mycroft was included in 'private'?" Sherlock said, showing a little resentment now that Augustus was gone.

"Shut up and listen to your mother." Mr. Holmes ordered. "This concerns the both of you.

Sherlock didn't continue on that subject, but he did speak once again. "What is this about then?" Sherlock asked.

"Your father and I are planning a holiday to Greece... We want you to care for Augustus while we were gone." Mrs. Holmes said.

Mycroft and Sherlock both blinked.

"I'd be happy to take him, Mother." Mycroft supplied.

"Ah ah ah!" Mrs. Holmes said, "I asked William, not you. You already know Augustus well. I want Augustus to know his other brother as well."

Mrs. Holmes turned to Sherlock.

"Mycroft has told us that Dr. Watson has been a good influence on you, and it has been 12 years, William."

Sherlock was unsure of where she was going with this line of conversation.

"We're willing to give you one more chance to prove that you've changed. That you've grown up, and aren't the irresponsible freak you were before." Mrs. Holmes said. "It's your last chance William Sherlock Scott. Don't mess it up. Prove to me you're not a freak." She put emphasis on the word 'freak' in both sentences.

Sherlock didn't say anything for a moment, then cleared his throat.

"I'll have to confirm with Dr. Watson that it would even be a possibility." Sherlock said quietly, after finding his words.

"Then you'd best find your doctor, shouldn't you?" Mr. Holmes said. His voice was low and threatening.

Sherlock recognized that tone, and flinched involuntarily as the breath caught in his throat. It was a split second before he answered.

"Yes, uh- yes Sir-" Sherlock stumbled over his word, his mind reeling at the tone his father had used. Only when he bumped into the wall did he realize that he had been backing up slowly.

He looked up momentarily at his parents, then walked quickly to the door.

* * *

Sherlock walked down the hallway and rounded a corner before bumping into John. Literally.

"Sherlock?" John said, as he looked up to see who had bumped into him.

Sherlock nodded distractedly as he gazed past John. John watched him a moment before scratching behind his ear.

"You alright?" John asked. "You eh- you seem a bit shaken up."

"Fine, just-" Sherlock said. "Forget it. Nothing, it's nothing."

"So should we walk back then?" John asked, motioning towards the sitting room.

"No- uh- I came out to speak to you." Sherlock said.

"Alright then." John looked at Sherlock expectantly.

After a moment, Sherlock seemed to notice this.

"What?" He asked, confused as to the look on John's face.

"Are you sure you're alright?" John asked. "You said you needed to speak to me?"

Sherlock sighed and rubbed his temples, glancing away momentarily before returning his gaze to John.

"I'm fine, just distracted." Sherlock answered.

"Obviously." John said. "Now what were you going to tell me?"

"Mum and Dad are going on holiday to Greece." Sherlock said. "They want August to stay with us while they're gone."

"August?" John asked, "I thought it was Augustus?"

"Only people like my parents would be crazy enough to call a child Augustus, and chances are his name is actually August. Even that's if they aren't calling him by his middle name, or haven't renamed him entirely."

"He's 14 years old," John said, "Why would they rename him?"

"Because they can, John!" Sherlock said. "It would make the boy feel like they have more authority over him."

"Did they change your name?" John asked.

"My last name, yes, of course, I can't remember if they changed the others or not though." Sherlock said. "Now back to the original subject."

"What was it again?" John asked.

"Keeping watch of Augustus while Mum and Dad are on vacation." Sherlock sighed, with slight exasperation.

"Right, right." John said. "Well, I think it's a good idea. If that's what you were wanting, my opinion."

"John, I'll mess him up even worse than they are." Sherlock said.

"No, you won't Sherlock." John said. "Plus, I'll be there to help you, and Molly. Yeah, this will be good. You can get to know him, assess the problem, and get something figured out for the long run. Yeah, this'll turn out alright." John nodded thoughtfully.

"I don't want him getting sucked into my work, John." Sherlock said. "A lot of people are after revenge, I don't want him becoming a target."

"Don't worry, we'll protect him." John said. "Plus, it's not like he'd be any safer at Mycroft's. There are people trying to assassinate him every other day."

"That's true," Sherlock muttered, "But still..."

* * *

A/N: Oh golly, how is this going to turn out? Augustus going to stay with Sherlock and John during the holiday? They don't even know each other hardly yet? And what are the details? How soon is this vacation, and how long will Mr. and Mrs. Holmes be gone for? What's Mycroft going to think of this? My, my this is a mess!

Review please.


	7. Dinner, Kindness, and Unknown Details

"Good. Right, now then, let's go back in there and tell them our discussion. We'll also need to find out specifics." John said.

Sherlock sighed and nodded.

They walked back into the room to see Mr. and Mrs. Holmes sitting there waiting.

After a moment of Sherlock just standing there, John nudged him.

Sherlock cleared his throat.

"We'd be delighted to watch Augustus while you're on holiday," Sherlock said. "but there are a few matters of which need attended. How long will you be away?"

Mrs. Holmes looked over at Mr. Holmes.

"Well, we're not sure of the exact length, but somewhere around 5 weeks." Mrs. Holmes said.

 _Five weeks._

John had been thinking one or two, but five weeks!? Who in the world had the money to go on a 5 week holiday?

Oh yes, the Holmes family.

"And when shall we come to get him?" Sherlock asked, sailing past the shock much more quickly than John.

 _Then again, he's probably used to it._ John thought.

"Oh, it shouldn't take him too long to be ready." Mrs. Holmes said. "Even less, if you help him. He's in your old room. He would probably be able to leave by tonight with your help."

"Tonight?" John choked on his own tongue.

"Well yes, he won't need to bring a whole lot, just some clothes and his school books..." Mrs. Holmes paused. "You will make sure that he continues his lessons, won't you? He won't need much help, I should think. I'd hate to get back and find that he was behind on them."

"That would be a tragedy..."

John nearly jumped. How could what seemed to be just an innocent comment, sound so much like a threat?

 _Must be the tone he used..._

John noticed that Sherlock had stiffened beside him, his posture changing to look unnaturally straight.

"Yes, of course, we will." Sherlock said. "Won't we, John?"

John cleared his throat. "Yes, of course."

Mrs. Holmes smiled.

"Now that that's all taken care of, we probably ought to head down to the dining room. Dinner should be about ready. Augustus will be able to find us easily enough." Mrs. Holmes said. "The after that you can help him pack to leave."

"Leave?" said a voice. "Where am I going?"

They all looked over to see Augustus in the door way.

"Augustus, darling, you're going to stay with your brother William while your father and I go on holiday." Mrs. Holmes said. "Don't you think that will be fun?"

Augustus looked over at Sherlock, stared at him a moment, then look back to his mother. He opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated.

 _Anything has got to be more fun than being here..._ He thought.

"Sure." August caught himself. "I'm sure it will, I mean."

"Good." Mrs. Holmes said. "Now, we must be off to the dining room. The meal should be ready now."

She led they way out of the room and down to the dining room, which could be more accurately called the dining hall. There was a table much too large for just six of them there. Mr. Holmes took his place as the head, and John sat at his right. John was proud of himself for knowing this bit of knowledge. Even if he had learned it in a movie...

 _I still knew it._ John thought. _You can learn from fictional books and movies. This was proof._

Mrs. Holmes sat to the head's left, and Mycroft to the second seat on the right.

Augustus took second on the left, and Sherlock sat on the third chair to the right.

Shortly, a maid carrying in two trays of tea came in, frantically setting the cups on the table and pouring tea in them.

"Now you bring the tea! Supper is nearly ready! We don't need it now!" Mrs. Holmes complained.

"My apologies madam." the maid said. "The kitchen was out of tea and-"

"Just take it away." Mrs. Holmes sighed.

The maid nodded and quickly stacked the dishes on her tray once again. She left through the kitchen doors.

"Excuse me for a moment." Sherlock said, quietly slipping from behind his chair with a grace that while not all together unseen from Sherlock, had gone unnoticed.

John hadn't consciously thought about it before, but Sherlock was quite coordinated and graceful. He wasn't a clumsy man, and while he did occasionally knock over one of his beakers during an experiment, John had never seen him spill the tea in his cup, no matter how full it was made. Interesting...

By turning slightly John could see Sherlock walk into through the kitchen doors.

* * *

Sherlock walked quickly to catch up with the made. She was by the oven when he caught her arm. She looked up and nearly jumped when she saw him.

"Thank you." Sherlock said. "I know there was nothing you could do about the time it took the tea, and I'm sorry that they've been treating you this way. Just know that, on my part anyway, it was appreciated. "

The maid watched as Sherlock knelt, and pulled the heavy skillet that the maid had been struggling to get out of the cabinet.

"You don't have to-" She protested.

"None sense."

He set it atop the stove.

"Thank you..." she said.

"My pleasure."

* * *

A/N: So there we get a BIG shock, as well as a bit of Sherlock being sweet. I hope you enjoyed it, and I look forward to writing more! Review please!


	8. Chocolate Cake and Packing

John watched as Sherlock walked back into the dining room, and took his seat at the table.

"What were you doing William?" Mr. Holmes said.

"Just straightening out the tea scenario." Sherlock answered, averting his eyes to the table.

Within a few minutes the same maid as well as a few others, cooks, John presumed, came out and set plates of food on the table in front of each of them.

It was fish. A fish that still looked a whole lot like a fish.

 _Might as well have just jumped out of the water and onto my plate._ John thought.

"I hope you like Branzino." Mrs. Holmes said.

"I'm sure I'll love it." John said, eyeing the fish carefully.

Sherlock cleared his throat and John glanced over at him, catching his eye.

Sherlock made slightly exaggerated movements as he cut into his fish.

John watched carefully as he started to eat the roll and peas that had been served with the fish.

First Sherlock pulled off the back and belly side fin bones. Then he sliced near the collar bone and separated the fillet from the head.

John continued to watch as Sherlock cut his fish open, and when Sherlock started to eat it, John started trying to cut his.

He did exactly what Sherlock did, but hadn't had the practice Sherlock had.

When he had finished, he saw an unappealing, though edible, mushed up fillet.

John observed his work.

 _Not bad for my first try._ John thought, then reconsidered. _Who am I kidding, it looks horrible!_

John hesitantly took a bite, and was surprised to find that it tasted good, despite his having destroyed the form of the fillet.

Sherlock wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin to hide his near chuckle when he saw the squishy glop that was John's fish.

 _Hey! It was my first time!_ John thought. _Stop laughing._

Sherlock, seemingly reading John's thoughts, just tried to hide his smile.

 _I'm not laughing._

 _Yes, you are! Now stop it!_

Mycroft glared at the both of them, aware of the telepathic banter that was taking place.

"Augustus doesn't know much about you, and since you will be keeping him for awhile, you probably ought to tell him a little about yourself." Mrs. Holmes said.

John sensed it was more of a command than a suggestion.

"Well, where to start?" Sherlock said.

John sensed that Sherlock had suddenly become nervous, and was watching his father out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm a consulting detective, I invented the job. When the police are out of their depth, which is quite often, just between you and me, they consult me, and I solve it for them." Sherlock said. "I'm John's flat mate, and I play the violin. That pretty much sums me up..." Sherlock trailed off.

"And what about you, Augustus?" Mrs. Holmes said. "Tell your brother a few things about yourself."

Augustus smiled sarcastically at Mrs. Holmes while saying "Yes ma'm." in a too sweet voice.

John was about to crack up, but then he turned and saw Sherlock's face go white.

 _Please don't._ Sherlock mouthed, but it was imperceptible enough that John barely caught it, and he was looking straight at him.

Mrs. Holmes and Mr. Holmes seemed not to notice the tone Augustus had used.

"Well, I'm adopted, that much is obvious, I've been here 3 months, and I didn't know I had a second brother until yesterday. Thanks for warning me in advance Mom!"

Augustus was definitely the master of sarcasm.

"Augustus! That's quite disrespectful!" Mrs. Holmes said. "Apologize to your father and I."

Augustus shrugged.

Mr. Holmes glared at him, and Augustus just glared back.

Sherlock wasn't sure whether to be worried or relieved. Augustus hadn't yet seen their father's wrath, that being obvious by the fact that he had the guts to glare at him, but he would soon, considering Mr. and Mrs. Holmes response.

"Apologize." Mr. Holmes ordered.

"Sorry." Augustus said, replicating the forceful tone his father had used.

"For what, dear?" Mrs. Holmes asked.

Augustus looked around the table.

"For being disrespectful."

"Alright then, now that that's over," Mrs. Holmes said. "When can finish eating. Then you will help Augustus pack, Sherlock."

The rest of the meal was relatively uneventful.

Augustus "accidentally" shot a couple peas onto Mycroft's lap, and Mycroft kicked Augustus's feet under the table in response, but that was about the extent of it.

After they had finished the meal, some chocolate cake was promptly brought out to serve as a desert.

August seemed to think that that was the best part of the meal. As did Mycroft.

Sherlock stared at the cake distastefully, having already eaten far more than he usually would, his stomach was quite full.

A glare from his father made him take a few bites. After those, he left it alone.

John savored the small cherries, which had been folded into the cake batter before it had been baked. He ate the chocolate cake around them before taking his time with the cherries, eating them one by one.

Then they were finished.

"Go pack now Augustus." she said. "William will help you get it done faster."

Augustus sighed, and looked up at Sherlock who was just looking at him.

"Alright." They said in unison.

The excused themselves and left to Augustus's room.

* * *

Augustus watched as Sherlock seemed to know exactly where his room was.

They walked in and Sherlock breathed out as he looked around.

Skate boarding posters covered the walls, and the desk held stacks of unfinished schoolwork, as well as a laptop computer, and some small metal parts such as gears, batteries, springs, and other such items.

"It looks much different than when it was mine." Sherlock commented.

"This used to be your room?" Augustus asked.

Sherlock nodded.

"She probably cleaned it out as soon as I left though." Sherlock said.

Sherlock turned to Augustus.

"So, what is your actual name then?" He asked.

"How did you know-?" Augustus asked.

"Doesn't matter, but I'd like to be able to address you correctly, at least when we're alone." Sherlock said.

"Jayden." Augustus said.

"Jayden..." Sherlock said. "Call me Sherlock."

"William is your middle name?" Jayden asked.

"No, I just never liked it. Sherlock is my middle name." Sherlock explained.

"So... You're normal then?" Jayden asked. "What you did in there, it was just a show, right? I have a normal brother?"

"No, I'm not exactly normal per say, but you were right about one thing." Sherlock said, "I'm not exactly a big fan of being forced to be what I'm not. However, in the case of our parents, it might be wiser to do so in the future."

"Why?" Jayden asked. "Why should we listen to them?"

"Because..." Sherlock hesitated. He didn't want Jayden to think even more poorly of their parents than he already did, and he definitely didn't want Jayden to be afraid of them.

"Because they're our parents, and we're in their house. Once we're out, things will change quite drastically. I'm afraid I'm not nearly as strict as my parent's, but I don't think you'll mind too much though, will you?"

"Less rules?" Jayden said, "I'm in no way objecting to that. I'm nearly positive that everything I do here breaks some sort of rule."

"Seems that way, doesn't it?" Sherlock said. He had sounded quite somber as he said that, Jayden noticed.

"Anyway, now that we've been antiquated for real, we probably ought to get on with the packing." Sherlock said, forcing a entirely unenthusiastic smile.

Jayden sighed and nodded. "Could you grab my books?"

Sherlock nodded, and began carefully packing them into a bag.

Jayden set about packing his clothes.

"Don't worry about bringing much, just for a few days. We'll go to the store and pick up some more comfortable ones." Sherlock said. "Does she make you wear the blue jumper?"

"Ugh, yes. The thing feels like sandpaper!" Jayden said.

"It does. She had one made by the same seamstress for Mycroft and I every year." Sherlock said. "They were for family pictures. I despised it."

"Good to finally be on your own now then, isn't it?" Jayden said.

"It is indeed." Sherlock agreed.

After a few minutes, they seemed to have gotten everything necessary.

"Is that all?" Sherlock asked.

"I sure hope so." Jayden said exasperatedly. He stood there, looking down at the pile which consisted of 1 large suit case and 2 large bags.

"Time to put it in the car then..." Sherlock said. He grabbed the suit case and one of the bags, leaving the other for Jayden to carry.

They walked out of the mansion and put the things in the trunk before going back.

"Your flat mate, John, he's normal too." Jayden commented.

"If you call a retired army doctor who went to Afghanistan and got shot in the shoulder, then was invalided back to London with PTSD, a psychosomatic limp, and an addiction to danger normal, then yes, John is perfectly normal."

"Wow, is anyone in London normal?" Jayden asked.

"Likely not anyone you're going to meet." Sherlock said. "Most mean 'the same' when they say 'normal'. Everyone's got their quirks, everyone's different. Well, most everyone. Not Anderson though, but he's an idiot."

"Anderson?" Jayden asked, now thoroughly interested.

"He works for Scotland Yard, but he shouldn't be, he's entirely incompetent."

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this, and thank you for all those awesome reviews! Keep reading!


	9. The Car Drive and Awkwardness

Sherlock and John managed to tolerate the rest of the visit, though John could tell that Sherlock was anxious to leave.

Finally, it had been determined the visit was over.

"Good bye Augustus." Mrs. Holmes said. "Be good for your brother."

Then the door closed.

That was it.

Sherlock, John, and Jayden climbed into the car, and Sherlock drove off.

They all sat in silence for several minutes.

"Well that was sudden." Jayden said, breaking the ice.

"Very much, yes." John agreed.

Sherlock nodded.

"So eh-"John searched his mind for conversation starters. "How old are you?"

"14." Jayden said.

"Okay..." John had no idea where to carry on from there. Fortunately, Jayden did.

"So you both live together?" Jayden asked.

"Yes, we're flat mates." John said.

"You live here in London?" Jayden asked.

"Yes." John answered. "221b Baker street."

"Who lives in 221A?" Jayden asked.

"No one, right now." John said. "Mrs. Hudson, our land lady, lives in 221c."

"Hmm..."

John chuckled.

"What?" Jayden frowned.

"Nothing, it's just- he does that too." John said, pointing at Sherlock.

"Does what?" Sherlock asked.

"The 'Hmm...' thing." John said.

"The 'Hmm...' thing?" Sherlock repeated, making it sound far more ridiculous than it actually was.

"Yeah, the 'Hmm...' thing." John said. "It's where you basically hum in response to every single thing I say. You do it a lot when you're bored."

"No, I don't." Sherlock disagreed.

"You do." John confirmed.

"Hmm..."

"See, you did it right there!" John said.

Jayden peaked his head up from the back seat.

"Do you guys always fight like this?" Jayden asked, a grin on his face.

"No."

"Yes."

These responses were given at exactly the same time, the 'nay' having been given by John, and the 'yea' Sherlock.

"Okay then..." Jayden said, raising his eyebrows.

"You're from the United States." Sherlock commented, changing the subject.

"Yeah, I'm from Sacramento, actually."

"Where?" John asked.

"The capital of California." Sherlock clarified.

"And you would know that because...?" John asked.

"I don't remember. Must have deleted it." Sherlock muttered.

"Deleted it?"Jayden asked, confused.

"I'm going to let you explain this." John sighed.

"I have a Mind palace, it's where I store information I want to remember, and-"

"Oh, so you use the method of Loci?" Jayden asked.

"He knows it. I can't believe he knows it." John said to himself, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"Yes, very good." Sherlock said. "Do you use it too?"

"I tried for awhile after I heard about it, but I never got very good at it." Jayden said.

A few more conversations started as they drove on.

* * *

Sherlock rounded a corner then pulled up to Baker street.

"And here we are." John said.

They all climbed out, and entered the flat.

"Neither of us are much good at house keeping, I'm afraid." John said.

John unlocked the door and they walked in.

Jayden sat his stuff on the floor; he looked around.

"What's her name?" He asked, pointing to the skull.

"His, not her, and Billy." Sherlock said. "He was my flat mate before John was."

John rolled his eyes.

"Not while he was alive." John clarified.

Jayden walked closer to it, and ran a finger across the jaw bone.

"How'd he die?" Jayden asked.

"Blunt trauma to the head." Sherlock said. "It wasn't all that hard, but it caused bleeding in the brain which was not caught in time."

Jayden rotated the skull in his hands.

"Oh yeah, I see that now." Jayden said. "There's an indentation on the occipital bone. He fell or something..."

Jayden squinted at the dent.

"No, the angle, probably wasn't a fall. To get that, he would have had to been pushed into something. It was murder."

"Correct." Sherlock said, turning his head to look at him. "You're the first person I've met who came to the same conclusion so quickly. Very impressive."

"I used to like forensics when I was younger." Jayden shrugged sheepishly. "Engineering is more my thing now."

"Interesting..." Sherlock said.

"I'm going to run down to Mrs. Hudson's to see about that room upstairs." John said. "I'll be right back. Try to behave yourself, Sherlock."

Sherlock plopped himself down in his chair.

"You're a consulting detective?" Jayden said, trying to make conversation.

"Yes." Sherlock said.

Jayden looked over at the scientific instruments.

"And a chemist." He said, more as a statement than a question.

"In my free time." Sherlock answered.

"There are eye balls on the table." Jayden said.

"Yes, thank you for stating the obvious." Sherlock said, passively.

"What experiment are you doing with them?"

"Nothing, yet. I'm going to test how the moisture is affected after remaining in the freezer for different periods of time."

"Interesting." Jayden said. He looked at the Punnett square Sherlock had taped to the wall for the purpose of his previous case.

"You really have diverse interests..." Jayden said. "Forensics, Chemistry, Biochemistry, Microbiology, Genetics, Pathology..."

"I know what is necessary to do well for my job." Sherlock said. Jayden sensed a slightly defensive tone.

"That's really cool." Jayden said. "The only thing Mycroft was interested in was how to run the British government, and how much cake can be eaten without exploding. He's smart, but not innovative like you."

"I can't deny that, nor would I want to." Sherlock said.

"I take it you don't like him either?"

"Not in the slightest."

It was silent for awhile, Jayden exploring and Sherlock thinking.

"Do you have a case now?" Jayden asked.

"No, not at the moment." Sherlock said. "Why?"

"Just curious."

They both heard footsteps coming back up the stairs.

John opened the door and walked in.

"You can take your stuff upstairs, your bedroom is on the left." John said. "Just in case you were wondering, mine's on the right and Sherlock's is just off the hall in here. The bathroom is across from his room."

"Thanks." Jayden picked two of his bags and hauled them upstairs.

* * *

"So uh- you two had a little brotherly bonding time, then?" John asked, as he put the kettle on for tea.

"Yes." Sherlock said.

"And how'd it go?" John asked.

"As well as can be expected for two people who don't know anything about each other."

John sighed and blinked his eyes with a half roll in annoyance.

 _He seems to have perfected that expression, I wish he'd move to another one..._ Sherlock thought.

"Don't give me that, Sherlock." John said. "I know you can read every detail about him."

"I try not to deduce people that I plan on attempting to care about, John." Sherlock said.

* * *

 **A/N: So, there's for the nervously hilarious attempt to break the awkwardness in the car, and a little bit of bonding time for the two Holmes. We also get a good view of Sherlock and John's friendship. I want to explain something too. _Sherlock didn't plan to care about John. It just sort of happened. He didn't try to care about him, in fact, he tried not to. He soon found that it was impossible for him not to care about John Watson. Impossible. And Sherlock Holmes does_ not _use that word lightly._ Anyway, I hope you like it, and please review, because it encourages me to update faster. Just a hint. ;)**


	10. Super-Sized Star Spangled Chip machine

A/N: My version Sherlock is a bit younger than on the show I think. He's almost 31 years old, just so you know. John is somewhere around 35-40.

* * *

 **The Next Morning**

* * *

"So..." Jayden said, looking around as he plopped himself onto the sofa. "Can you tell me about yourself for real, I mean, now that you don't have to be all polite and stuff?"

"Not much more to tell." Sherlock said. "What is it that you're wanting to know?"

"I don't know..." Jayden said. "When's your birthday?"

"Don't remember." Sherlock said. "I deleted it."

"Alright then... how much older are you than me?"

"Depends, how old are you?"

"14." Jayden said.

"Then I would be somewhere around 16 years older than you." Sherlock said.

"Oh. So you're 3 then?"

"Something like it." Sherlock said.

"So you're a genius 30 year old consulting detective with a Masters in Chemistry from Cambridge University who plays classical music on the violin, as well as composing your own music." Jayden said, going over everything he'd learned about Sherlock so far. "You hate Mycroft, don't particularly care for our parents, and you love reading and science experiments."

"Pretty much sums me up, yes." Sherlock said.

"No it doesn't." Jayden disagreed.

Sherlock looked up from the book he happened to be reading. He had just gotten to the interesting part about the exact speed at which a maggot devours a corps that has been frozen for three days.

"Oh?" Sherlock said, passively.

"We're out of milk again." John said, exasperatedly as he walked into the room. "Want to come with me, Jayden, or do you want to stay here with Sherlock?"

"Take him with you. I'm sure he hasn't seen much of London yet." Sherlock said.

"I can speak for myself, you know." Jayden said, he glanced at Sherlock with a hint of a challenge in his eyes.

"Yes, I'm aware." Sherlock said, as he set his book down and stood up. "You made that plenty clear during dinner last evening." Sherlock reached for his coat and pulled it on.

"Then why didn't you let me answer?" Jayden asked. "I might have wanted to stay here with you."

"Maybe, but you were too slow, now weren't you?" Sherlock said. He put his gloves on with a snap. "I'm off to the morgue; I'll ride with you part way."

"Oh gosh," John sighed, "What have I gotten myself into?"

* * *

"I thought you guys had a car?" Jayden said as he realized that the Hyundai was no longer sitting on the street in front of them.

"Not mine, it was Mycroft's." Sherlock said. "He was trying to make sure we attended the dinner. He probably would have kidnapped us if we didn't come out soon enough."

"Oh." Jayden said. "So we're taking a taxi then?"

"Cab, Jayden, cab. You're in London now." Sherlock said.

"Maybe, but I'm still American." Jayden said. "In the USA you're free to call a taxi anything you want to. You Brits could call them cabs no one would complain about it."

"Well, you enjoy your freedom, with your super-sized chip- french fry things and star spangled banners, but guess who's got free health care and a longer life expectancy?"

"Well, you only live once." Jayden defended.

"Of course, and I'd prefer not to shorten it." Sherlock said.

Unable to come up with a good response, Jayden just glared at him.

Sherlock smirked in victory.

* * *

"Stop here." Sherlock told the cabbie.

"What time will you be back?" John asked.

"Depends, what time is it now?" Sherlock asked. John looked at his watch.

"About 10:00 am." John said.

"I should be done by 12:00." Sherlock got out of the cab and started walking away.

"Meet me at the flat?" John asked, leaning out the window.

Sherlock nodded then headed off to the morgue.

The cab drove off.

After awhile, John spoke.

"I know Sherlock's not exactly the most forthcoming about himself, and you're bound to have questions, so if you have anything you'd like answered..."

"How long will it take for him to get warm up to me?" Jayden asked.

John chuckled. "What you've seen so far is about as warm as he'll get." John said. "Really it's a miracle how quickly he's done it. He doesn't like people much."

"Why not?" Jayden asked.

"Well, eh-" John considered this for a moment. "I guess it's because people misunderstand him a lot. Sherlock can come across as quite abrasive sometimes, but he's not trying to be rude, he's just naturally very blunt, and honest. Sometimes he'll just say things that are insensitive, and people just automatically think the worst of him. They think that he's trying to hurt them. He's not though. A great man, your brother is. He just happens to be a bit different from every one else, and people like to call him out on it. A few officers at the Yard in particular, but every one pretty much. He's not actually sociopath, you know that, right?"

"Sociopath?" Jayden asked. "Well that came out of the blue."

"Wait- so he hasn't told you?" John paused.

"No, there has been no mention of sociopathism, I think I would have noticed."

John turned to look at Jayden.

"If he's not trying to pull that one on you he's warmed up to you quickly indeed! He attempts it on me sometimes." John said.

"Explain, please?" Jayden said.

"Right, right, well, it's just that eh- he likes to make people think he's a sociopath. He's pretty good at pulling it off too, and I have no doubt that he's got some sort of a problem with figuring out emotions and people and the like, but he's not a sociopath. He's just quite guarded. Only lets down his walls in front of people he trusts. For him to have a banter with you like that after only a few hours, you must be something very special. And exactly what he needs."

"Don't you think that that could be just because I'm his brother? The whole letting his guard down thing?" Jayden asked.

"No, have you seen him with Mycroft?" John said. "He does anything he possibly can to get that man off his back."

Jayden and John got out of the cab and walked into Tesco.

They got the milk among a few other things and began to check out.

Unfortunately, the chip and pin machine decided to act up once again.

"Urgh!" John said. "Mycroft! I know you can hear me, and stop this!" John shook his fist towards the nearest security camera. "Stop it!"

"Mycroft?" Jayden asked.

"You may not know it, but Mycroft, your brother, is pretty much head of the British government. He's got access to pretty much any security camera, and he's got a button on his computer that he presses that will make all the chip and pin machines malfunction! He says he only does it to stop potential thieves, but he does it to bother me too. He does something with the traffic lights as well!"

Jayden chuckled.

"It's not funny, he does this nearly every time." John said. "It's getting old now."

"I know, it's just not something I'd imagine him doing." Jayden said.

"Mycroft claims Sherlock's the immature one, and he is, but Mycroft's got more than his fair share of childish habits as well." John said. "Do you know why he does this?"

"Why?" Jayden asked.

"Because he's bored!" John said.

"You can stop bad mouthing Mycroft." Jayden said. "The debit card machine is working now. It has been for over a minute."

John looked down at it.

"Oh."

John finished checking out and they left.

* * *

 **A/N:** I decided it was time for a funny chapter, so here you go. I hope you enjoyed it. Anyway, reviews please and tell me your favorite part! PM me if there's something you'd like to see happen, but I've got it plotted out pretty well, but it's pretty loose and I've got wiggle room. So, if you've got any scenes you'd really like me to write in there, just tell me! Thanks!


	11. One Point To England

John and Jayden got back to the flat to find that Sherlock was not yet home.

"Want a cuppa?" John asked.

"Sure, thanks." Jayden nodded.

"How do you like it?" John asked.

"3 sugars, no milk."

John dropped the sugars in the tea.

"You like it quite sweet, then." John remarked.

"Yeah." Jayden took the cup from John and sat down on the couch. John sat across from him.

"So, how are you adjusting to England?" John asked. "Do you like it here?"

"Pretty good, I guess. I do miss the U.S., but Sherlock was right, I haven't gotten to see much of here." Jayden said.

"Why not?"

"They keep me at the Holmes mansion most of the time. I've only been out a couple times, and even then..." Jayden hesitated. "I wasn't exactly supposed to be gone. But I had to see what was out there."

"I get it." John nodded. "Sherlock tells me that your parents are a little..."

"Overbearing?" Jayden supplied.

John nodded.

"Yeah, though I wouldn't describe it as 'a little' though." Jayden said.

After a few moments of silence, John spoke up again, unable to keep his curiosity in check any longer.

"If you don't mind me asking," John said, "how did you end up with the Holmes? What happened to your parents?"

"I never knew my dad, and my Mom died a few months after I was born. She worked at a bank in the World Trade center, and then 9/11 happened..."

"Oh, I'm sorry." John said.

"It's not that bad actually," Jayden said, "She died trying to save a few children that got separated from their mother in all that."

"She was a hero." John agreed.

Jayden nodded.

"After that, I've been to a couple foster homes, and stayed at the children's home part of the time, then Mr. and Mrs. Holmes adopted me about three months ago." He continued. "That's brings us to now."

"Do you like living with them?" John asked.

"They're alright, I guess. It could have been a lot worse. I could have been adopted by some grumpy old man who wanted me only to do his farm work or something." Jayden said. "They're really strict, and not all that great at showing affection, but that's really the only down side. Oh yeah, add Mycroft to the list of down sides."

"You don't like Mycroft?" John asked.

"A spoiled brat is all he is." Jayden said distastefully. "I don't care if he's head of the British government, he's a jerk."

"I see." John said, quite entertained.

"I only have to deal with him part of the time though, so that's not too big of a deal." Jayden said. "So... How'd you meet Sherlock?"

"Funny story that," John said, chuckling. "I was looking for a flat mate, Sherlock had been too, and my old mate Mike Stamford introduced us. The first time I saw him he was beating a corpse with a riding crop."

Jayden stared at him for a second.

"Why?"

"He wanted to see what bruises formed over the next three hours. Something for a case, I think." John said. "Maybe just for fun. I don't remember."

Jayden continued to stare at him, with something between curiosity and disgust on his face.

"I'm fairly sure my face looked something like yours does now, except probably a little more exaggerated." John said. "And if you're staying here for awhile you'd best get used to stuff like that, because it's not going to stop any time soon. Believe me, I came home from the practice one day to see a head in the fridge. He told me he was measuring saliva coagulation after death."

"That's is awesome, but also slightly disgusting." Jayden said.

"Not to mention the fact that he hadn't told me it was going to be in there." John said. "Gave me a bit of a fright. I had just watched a horror movie the night before... No good dreams that night."

"I imagine not!" Jayden laughed. "And to think I thought you Brits were going to be boring."

"That's one stereotype that is most definitely not correct," John agreed. "At least for us anyway."

"I have a question too." Jayden said.

"Shoot." John said.

"Why are the British so obsessed with tea?" Jayden asked.

"Because it tastes good?" John shrugged. "I really don't know. Haven't given it much thought."

"I mean, tea is to you like soda is to us, and vice versa." Jayden said, "Soda is a way better name than 'fizzy drinks' by the way."

"Mm, can't deny that." John said. "Crisps is a much better name than chips though."

"Hmm... maybe." Jayden said. "I'd say they're about the same."

"Oh, come on, you've got to give us a point!" John said.

"I will, but not for that. Let me think..." Jayden said. "You've got... a queen. That's just sort of cool. Sounds better than president."

"Alright then, I guess that will work." John said. "I was just hoping it was a bit more limited to England."

"Hey, you get what you get, and you don't throw a fit." Jayden said, "Deal with it."

The conversation continued and they were both laughing when Sherlock walked in.

It took John a moment to suppress his laughter, but he eventually managed to speak.

"How'd the morgue go?" John asked.

"It went alright." Sherlock said. "New case."

"Good. What's it rated?" John asked.

"Only a 6, but I couldn't find anything higher for now." Sherlock said. "It's so peaceful outside. It's infuriating."

John and Sherlock heard Mrs. Hudson walking in and they both turned to her.

"Relax Sherlock, I'm sure something will turn up." Mrs. Hudson said. "Maybe a nice theft. Might be a bit safer than all the murderers you've been going around chasing. Or that dreadful Moriarty deal. In the meantime, why don't you get to know your new brother a little better. I know I want to."

Mrs. Hudson smiled at Jayden.

"And you must be Sherlock's brother." She said. "It's so nice to meet you. I'm John and Sherlock's landlady."

"Nice to meet you Mrs. Hudson." Jayden reached out to shake her hand, but she walked up to him and hugged him.

He looked a little surprised and just blinked, patting her back awkwardly.

Mrs. Hudson released him after a moment.

"Well, I just came up here to check on every one, and meet Jayden, so I'd best go back down now. I've got some washing up to do. I'll see you boys later."

Jayden turned back to Sherlock and John.

"Mrs. Hudson has no trouble making her affections known." John said. "And she likes Sherlock, thereby making her instantly like you."

"I see that." Jayden said. "So... Sherlock, the case?"

"What about it?" Sherlock asked.

"Tell me about it." Jayden prompted. "How was the person killed?"

"How do you know it was a murder?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, considering you just came back from a morgue, that's pretty well assumed, isn't it?" Jayden said.

"Yes, of course." Sherlock said.

"So... why did you ask me how I knew?" Jayden asked.

"Because most people tend to ask stupid questions before actually saying the thing they mean." Sherlock said. "Anyway, a man 42 years old, was killed at about 3:00 am last night. He was stabbed at the cinema."

"Cool." Jayden said.

"You think so?" Sherlock said.

"Of course." Jayden said. "Who wouldn't?"

"Most."

* * *

 **A/N:** So there is a little bonding between Jayden and John, then Jayden and Mrs. Hudson, and last, Jayden and Sherlock. Already he gets sucked into the group.

I wonder what happens when he meets Molly?

I guess you'll just have to wait until the next chapter, now won't you? ;)

 **Reviews please!**


	12. No Twinkies, Major Downside

"So... Why are we going to the morgue again?" Jayden asked.

"Not the morgue, St. Bart's. Same building though. Just a different level." Sherlock said. "I've already gleaned everything I could from the body. There wasn't a struggle, so nothing much to look at. Just a clean shot through the head. Interesting calling sign though, the hand was entirely painted green... Never seen that one before."

"You didn't answer my question." Jayden said.

" I need more magnification than I have. I also need the equipment to test this yarn sample from the victim's sweater further." Sherlock said. "I didn't expect it to be as complex as it is, and I had thought I could do it with my own equipment. I can't."

"So we're going to a hospital. That makes perfect sense!" Jayden said sarcastically.

"Of course it does." Sherlock said, not having caught the sarcasm.

Jayden turned to John.

"Is it all Brits or just him that have no sense of humor?" Jayden asked exasperatedly.

"Mmm... I think it's just him." John said. "He does have it though, be it deranged, it's still there. He's not good with sarcasm though."

"You don't say," Jayden sighed.

"Surely you realize that I can hear every word you say, right?" Sherlock asked.

John and Jayden looked at each other.

"Yes." They both said, looking back to Sherlock at the same time.

Sherlock slapped Jayden lightly on the back of the head.

"Come on, you idiots." Sherlock said. "We're here."

* * *

They walked into the laboratory to find that Molly was in there running a test on a sample of blood.

She apparently hadn't noticed them yet, having not greeted them. Sherlock walked up behind her.

"Molly?"

She jumped and spun around, nearly dropping the vial of blood she was holding.

She scrambled to catch it, but the vial found itself landing softly into Sherlock's palm.

Sherlock handed it back to Molly.

"Thanks." She smiled. "I do wish you wouldn't sneak up on me like that."

"Maybe I'll stop." Sherlock said.

"No, you won't." John shook his head.

"He's right, you probably won't." Molly said. "But that's alright. Now, what are you here for?"

"Molly, I'd like you to meet my brother-"

"Oh I've already met Mycr- oh." She turned and saw Jayden. "You have two brothers?"

"Apparently." Sherlock said. "My parents adopted him. I just met him yesterday."

Sherlock spun around and looked back at John.

"How does that thing work?" Sherlock said. "You told me once. How to... introduce people?"

"Right- you say the female's name first, then the male's," John said, "then you reverse them."

"Right then- Molly, Jayden," Sherlock paused and looked back to John. "Are you sure it's not the other way around?"

"Positive, Sherlock." John rolled his eyes.

"Let's just skip that then, shall we?" Sherlock said. "Much too complicated for what it's worth. Basically, his name is Jayden, yours is Molly, and you both find it nice to meet each other. There." Sherlock clapped his hands together once as he said the last word, then spun around and started walking in the opposite direction.

"Come, John."

John smiled apologetically, shrugging a little. John then followed after Sherlock and Molly and Jayden could hear the beginning of an exchange between them.

"That was a bit rude, Sherlock." John said.

"Was it?"

"Better than before, but yeah, a bit."

"Hmm..."

Their voices faded away as they walked to the other end of the lab. Jayden and Molly stood in awkward silence.

"You're Sherlock's... brother, then?" Molly said.

"Yeah... Apparently. We're both still kinda new at this whole... brother thing." Jayden said. "I don't know a whole lot about him..."

"Ah, well, you'll learn soon enough." Molly smiled. "He's an astonishingly complex man, but you'll figure out the basics pretty quickly. I don't think anyone knows entirely what goes on in that strange mind of his, except maybe John, but even then, I'm pretty sure Sherlock keeps a lot to himself."

"Yeah, I've noticed that." Jayden said, peering over at John and Sherlock.

"He's a lot deeper than he looks though." Molly said, "Just remember that. More matters to him than just solving crimes and puzzles, despite what it may look like."

"You sound like you know him pretty well." Jayden commented.

"We've worked together quite often for nearly five years now." Molly said. "So yeah, I'd say I know him pretty well. Better than most people, at least."

"Has he always been this... eccentric?" Jayden asked. "With the eyeballs in the microwave, the head in the refrigerator... That stuff?"

"Mmm... Yes, pretty much." Molly said. "But don't worry about it, he's a good man underneath it all. He's just... misunderstood a lot, that's all."

"That's pretty well the same way John described him." Jayden nodded.

"John's a smart man, despite what Sherlock may say." Molly said. "They like to pick on each other a lot."

"I've noticed." Jayden chuckled.

"They do care about each other though." Molly said, smiling as she watched Sherlock point something out to John, then have John look through the microscope.

They watched Sherlock explain what it meant to John.

"He's absolutely brilliant..." Molly trailed off.

"And so stupid at the same time." Jayden added.

Molly chuckled, "Well, I can't deny that. Do you like it here in London?"

"It's good so far as I can see. You don't seem to have Twinkies here though." Jayden said. "That's a major down side."

"Twinkies?" Molly asked. "What's a Twinkie?"

"Seriously!? No one here has even heard of them!" Jayden said. "Oh you poor, abused creatures!"

"Well, what are they?"

"Oh, merely the best tasting food in existence."

"Is it, then?" Molly laughed.

Molly found Jayden's antics a good deal more hilarious than Sherlock's, then again, she supposed that was probably because he was still a child and not a grown man.

"Definitely." Jayden said. "Creamy on the inside, spongy on the outside. Tastes like heaven."

"Well if you ever get back to America you'll have to bring me one." Molly said.

"Deal. Everyone needs to experience the amazing-ness that is Twinkies."

"Jayden, come over here a moment please." Sherlock called from across the lab.

"You better go over then." Molly said.

"I'll see you later. It was nice meeting you." Jayden nodded.

"Jayden?"

"Coming!"

* * *

"Look in there." Sherlock said.

Jayden did as asked and peered into the microscope.

"What do you see?" Sherlock asked.

"Hmm... it's not just yarn. There's something else in it too..." Jayden said. "The yarn is primarily polyester, but the extra thing is organic."

"Of course, all the Holmes are geniuses, aren't they?" John said, walking away throwing his hands in the air. "Does having the name just automatically raise your IQ by about 100 points?"

Sherlock and Jayden just ignored him.

"What do you think it is?" Sherlock asked.

"A hair, maybe?"

"Mmm... yes, I was hoping you'd go a little deeper than that though." Sherlock said.

"A... white hair." Jayden said. "Sorry, that's all I've got."

"Yes, a white hair from a long haired breed of dog." Sherlock said. "And don't be sorry, you've already figured out a lot more than most would. Now, the victim had no dog, and neither did anyone he knew, so how do you think the hair got on his sweater."

"I suppose it could have happened during a struggle..." Jayden said, "But you said there wasn't one. So how did it get on him?"

Sherlock smiled.

"I'll make a detective out of you yet."

* * *

A/N: So... hope you liked it, and please review if you've got any suggestions as to how I can make this story even better. Anyway, Jayden gets to meet Lestrade soon. He'll also see his first crime scene sometime in the next few chapters. Tell me if you think anyone starts acting OOC, you get the idea. Oh, and just as a fun fact, I actually don't like Twinkies. They were just what came to mind. Review please!


	13. The Deduction Lead Thingy

"So what's the next step?" Jayden asked.

"What's the next step to what?" Sherlock said.

"To solving the crime." Jayden clarified.

"Well, we could either do a few interrogations, or wait and see if there's another murder." Sherlock said. "I've always preferred the latter, but more evidence usually pops up before then. I'm going to see if my network has any information regarding the victim. I'll be back in an hour or two. Go grab some lunch or something. Why don't you take him to Angelo's?"

Sherlock walked off down the street.

Jayden turned to John.

"Is he insane?" Jayden asked.

"Uh... Yep. Pretty much." John sighed. "He had a good idea though. I am getting peckish. You?"

"Yeah." Jayden said. "Where's Angelo's?"

"It's a restaurant we go to sometimes. Sherlock knows the owner." John said. "It's not far away, we can walk."

"Sounds good." Jayden nodded.

They walked the ways to the restaurant, and once they got there, a conversation was started.

"Have you ever been to the USA?" Jayden asked.

"No, can't say I have." John said. "I'd like to someday though."

"What about Sherlock?" Jayden asked.

"I don't think so." John answered. "He has been all over the place though. Most of the countries in Europe, a few in Asia, I think he went to Africa once."

"Why did he go to all those places?" Jayden asked.

John hesitated, not knowing whether or not he should tell Jayden about the Fall, or if Sherlock wanted to tell him about it.

"Uh- Just a second." John said.

* * *

Sherlock felt his phone buzz in his pocket as he walked to the next . He pulled it out to see John had texted.

 **Jayden's asking about the fall. - JW**

 **What should I tell him? -JW**

Sherlock hesitated to answer.

 **What does he know? - SH**

 **That you've been to a lot of countries. - JW**

* * *

John could see the '...' and he knew Sherlock was typing something, then deleting it, typing something, then deleting it.

It was still a raw spot for Sherlock, even John didn't know much about what had happened, just the bare basics.

 **Tell him what you know. - SH**

 **You sure? - JW**

 **Yes.- SH**

 **It could open a whole new can of worms... - JW**

 **I know. Are you trying to persuade me not to have you tell him? - SH**

 **No, no, it just- I'm surprised you're wanting to be this open about it. - JW**

 **I'm not. - SH**

 **You know what I mean. - JW**

 **I'm just glad you recognize that he'll have to find out at some point. - JW**

 **Yes, John, I get it. - Sh**

 **If he wants to know more, tell him to ask me. - SH**

 **I will. - JW**

John glanced up at Jayden to find that he was staring at John.

"Well it's not exactly hard to figure out who you're texting." Jayden said.

"What do you mean?"

"You were rolling your eyes at the phone." Jayden said. "So is it top secret or something? Why he went to those places?"

"Not exactly, it's just a touchy spot for him." John said. "4 years ago, he was on a very, very high pressure case, and a few Scotland yarders who don't like him in the slightest, were trying to tear down his reputation. They were trying to convince the world that he was a fake. He's not of course, but it looked like it. There's man named James Moriarty who is more or less your brother's enemy. He's obsessed with trying to beat Sherlock. He had a hand in the process and got people to believe that he was actually just an actor named Richard Brook, who had been paid, by Sherlock, to pretend to be Moriarty. He was very thorough, and most of London believed it. Enough that Sherlock was considered a criminal, and the Yard was after him. They arrested him in his flat, and I-" John hesitated.

"Let me guess, you managed to get yourself arrested with him?" Jayden said. "Punched somebody or something?"

"How did you know?"

"You and Sherlock seem really close." Jayden said. "That, and it just sounds like something you would do."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." John sighed. "But yes, that's what happened. Then, Sherlock got this crazy idea, and actually escaped the officers. In order to get away, he pretended to take me hostage, and pointed a gun at my head."

"I'm sure that made you feel good." Jayden said sarcastically.

"I didn't care much actually." John said. "I had no doubt he wouldn't shoot me. Anyway, so we ran off then, hand cuffed together, not sure which of the stupid Yarders did that, but it was quite inconvenient. I'm going to skip a bit here, to the important part. We eventually got separated and and he went off to do something. I didn't know what it was at the time. He went to the top of St. Bart's hospital to meet Moriarty. He didn't know it until he was up there, but Moriarty had snipers trained on Mrs. Hudson, Greg Lestrade, and I. The only way to call them off, was for him to jump off the roof, committing suicide, and dying in disgrace, seeing as how London now thought he was a fake. Sherlock used some of Moriarty's phrasing against him, said that as long as Moriarty was still alive, he wouldn't have to jump. He underestimated how far Moriarty was willing to go, and Moriarty shot himself."

"So what did he do?" Jayden asked, now quite interested in the story.

"He jumped." John said. "He survived the fall obviously, and I'm still not sure how. But after that, he disappeared for 3 years. I didn't hear from him that entire time, not even a note to tell me he wasn't dead. Then, one day, he shows up again. Out of nowhere."

"What did he do while he was gone?" Jayden asked.

"The most I know was that he was working on taking down Moriarty's network." John said. "That's pretty much all I know, other than the fact that he went a lot of places. I also know that it was not pleasant."

"Why hasn't he told you?" Jayden asked.

"I don't know, I pressured him to at first, but I stopped that after awhile, it only made things worse." John said. "But uh- he told me to tell you that if you want to know more, that you should ask him."

"Why would he tell me and not you?" Jayden asked. "You've known him a ton longer."

"I know it doesn't seem like it yet, Jayden," John said. "but I think you're already very special to Sherlock. He was already quite protective of you as soon as he knew you existed."

"I wasn't in danger, what would he want to protect me from?" Jayden asked, confused.

John scolded himself at the slip up. For reasons unknown, Sherlock didn't want Jayden to know about his experience with the Holmes family.

"Well, you were adopted into a very wealthy family, and that doesn't come without it's risks." John said. "And you were around Mycroft. Definitely a risk at becoming boring there."

"Yeah." Jayden said. "That makes sense."

John was quite proud of himself. He had actually managed to come up with a believable cover up.

It made him think again though, wondering why Sherlock was wanting to hide this from Jayden.

* * *

Sherlock walked away irritably. None of his homeless network had heard a thing more than Sherlock already knew. The victim was a quite person it seemed, keeping to himself more often than not. There wasn't a lot to go on. Sherlock walked up the stairs to the flat and walked in.

"No luck?" John asked.

Sherlock shook his head.

"None at all."

"I'm sure something will turn up. Tea?"

"Not thirsty."

"Sherlock, I'm going to ask you again, and you're going to consider the fact that you haven't eaten all day." John said. "Tea?"

"Not now, John!" Sherlock said. He walked over to the wall where he had snippets of information pertaining to the case on the wall.

"Relax, something will pop up." John said. "You'll be sitting there pouting when some sort of miraculous deduction/lead thingy enters your mind, and then you'll be bouncing off the walls while insulting me until I'm ready to help you follow it up."

Sherlock looked over at John.

" 'Deduction/lead _thingy?'_ " Sherlock said. "Really, John?"

"What else was I supposed to call it?!"

* * *

 **A/N: It was brought to my attention in the last chapter that it was unlikely that Sherlock would hit Jayden on the back of the head, even lightly, considering the hinted abuse. I want to clarify that. When Sherlock hit Jayden on the back of the head, it was Sherlock testing Jayden to see if he flinched. The results would tell Sherlock the conditions that Jayden had been living under. Jayden did not flinch, showing that he had been subject to no physical abuse as of yet. I'm sorry I did not make that clear enough, and I hope to do better in the future.**


	14. Jayden!

Jayden watched as John boiled a few eggs.

John then cut the boiled eggs into quarters and lined them up on the arm of Sherlock's chair.

"What are you doing?" Jayden asked.

"Feeding Sherlock." John said. "Probably does look funny, now that I think about it. Can you hand me one of those clementine oranges?"

"Sure..." Jayden tossed John the orange, and John caught it without looking.

John peeled the orange and placed the slices on a plate, then put the plate on top of Sherlock's violin case.

"Why don't you just wait for him to get back, then have him eat it?" Jayden asked.

"Because he won't eat it if I tell him to." John said. "If I do this, he'll just sort of munch on them as he thinks without knowing it. Much in the same way that if I set food in front of him while he's in his mind palace, he'll eat it, but have no recollection of doing so later."

"That's weird."

"It is." John agreed. "But it's the only way I've figured out to get food into him. Occasionally he'll sit down and eat with me, but not often. Believe it or not, this is his primary form of caloric intake. It's not enough really, but it's the best I can do."

Jayden's eyes swept over the array of oddly placed food.

"How did he survive without you?" Jayden asked.

"I've wondered that myself." John chuckled. He smiled for a moment, before it slid off his face. "He was actually in pretty bad shape when I first met him... Much worse than he is now. Then when he came back after the fall..."

"Well, at least you have proof that you're important to him." Jayden supplied.

"That I do." John nodded. "Whether he says it or not."

A wonderful, delightful, glorious idea popped into Jayden's brain. He couldn't keep himself from smiling slyly.

John glanced at him as he was working, then did a double take when he saw the look on Jayden's face.

"What are you plotting?" John asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"Nothing, why do you ask?" Jayden said, dropping the smirk. He tried to appear angelic and innocent as he could.

"That doesn't work on me, you know." John said. "Lucky for you, you and Sherlock share some very similar facial expressions. Now what are you plotting?"

"Fine, I'll tell you. But answer my question first." Jayden said. "He eats what ever you leave there, right? He doesn't look at it first?"

"Yes." John asked. "Now what's your plan?"

"I think we need to go to Tesco..."

"Why?"

* * *

When Sherlock got back to the flat he sat in his chair to think. He noted that John and Jayden were in the kitchen.

Sherlock entered his mind palace, looking for any more information about the case that he had missed.

 _Why can't I figure this one out?_

 _Why isn't there enough evidence?_

While Sherlock was lost in thought, his fingers made their way to were the bits of food were sitting on the arm rest beside him.

They popped one in his mouth, and Sherlock chewed automatically, not consciously aware that he was eating.

He continued both eating and thinking.

 _Why was there evidence of a scuffle when there wasn't one?_

 _How is it possible for evidence to conflict each other like that?_

 ** _Sour!_**

The reaction to the yellow fruit over powered the thoughts of his mind.

 _ **SOUR!**_

Sherlock's mouth twisted, and he spit what was in his mouth out into his hand.

 _Lemon?!_

 _But they're **always** oranges!_

 _John knows I hate sour things!_

 _Wait- it wasn't John._

* * *

"Jayden!"

John and Jayden both laughed silently, but so hard that tears rolled from their eyes.

"Why haven't you done this before?" Jayden whispered.

"I have no idea." John shook his head. "That was awesome. Actually, you probably better start running now."

Jayden nodded just as Sherlock came into the kitchen and saw them.

"Yep!" Jayden said.

Sherlock chased him around the table several times before Jayden managed to slide beneath the table, thus escaping Sherlock momentarily.

He winked at Sherlock just before dashing out of the room.

His exit reminded John very much of the first time he had met Sherlock.

* * *

 _"The name is Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221b Baker street."_

 _Then the partial smile and wink, accompanied by a small click, and he was gone._

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, but I thought that was a good ending. Keep reading to find out what happens when Sherlock finally catches Jayden. Or if. ;)**


	15. Chasing in the Rain

Sherlock chased Jayden all around the flat, under and over furniture, around corners, and through nearly every room of the place.

Sherlock had never had such trouble catching someone before.

Jayden stopped near the front door before sticking his tongue out, and bolting out the door.

John made his way down the stairs just in time to see Sherlock run after him.

"At least stay close!" John called out the door. The only response he got was a quick thumbs up from Sherlock.

"I hope they're careful..." Mrs. Hudson said, leaning out the door behind John. John gave her a sheepish smile.

"Tea?" He offered.

* * *

Wind whipped past his face, and he only vaguely noted that rain had begun to pelt his arms. Jayden hadn't had more fun since he came to England. Being chased by a swift, angry, and brilliant Englishmen was actually quite thrilling.

 _He knows this town like the back of his hand, he's going to catch me eventually..._ Jayden thought. _I wonder what he'll do._

* * *

A storm had formed by the time the Sherlock finally cornered Jayden.

They stood there in the pouring rain, staring at each other breathing heavily.

"You caught me." Jayden said breathlessly.

Sherlock nodded. A smile slid onto Jayden's face as he hunched over.

"You going to kill me?"

"No," Sherlock scoffed, "Don't be obvious."

"Why do I get the feeling that that's an inside joke?"

"Because it is." Sherlock said, waving the subject off. "It's a reference to a past case. Only John would get it."

Jayden nodded, "What are you going to do then?"

Sherlock smiled.

"I actually didn't have anything specific in mind." Sherlock said. "But I think this... will suit my purposes quite nicely."

Sherlock looked up expectantly, and Jayden turned around to see what he was.

"Wha-"

* * *

 _Cold._

 _Cold._

 _Freezing cold._

 _How in the world-?_

 _Ugh! COLD!_

"Where did that come from?!" Jayden exclaimed.

"You're standing quite near a window covering that has a reputation for releasing the water it blocks all at once." Sherlock said. "I did some quick math and made sure you were standing in the right place at the right time."

"You know what?" Jayden said, blinking the water out of his eyes.

"What?"

"This means war. A prank war."

"Deal, so long as they're not unnecessarily destructive."

"Well that's boring." Jayden complained.

"It is," Sherlock agreed, "But John would kill me if I destroyed his favorite jumper again."

"Again?" Jayden asked, smirking.

"It may have accidentally been dissolved." Sherlock said. "In acid."

"Accidentally?"

"As far as he knows."

"I figured."

"It's not like I knew it was his favorite jumper then..." Sherlock defended himself.

"I'm sure." Jayden looked up and down himself. Sherlock was drenched, but he was soaked to the bone. "So what do we do now?"

Sherlock shrugged.

"What time is it?"

Jayden looked down at his watch and was about to answer when he did a double take.

"About 6:00." Jayden said. "Have we really been out that long? Didn't feel like it."

"Hmm..." Sherlock said.

Jayden heard a low rumble and realized it was his stomach.

"You're hungry." Sherlock commented, apparently having heard the sound as well.

"Uh-huh." Jayden nodded.

Sherlock frowned.

"What?" Jayden asked.

"I'm a tad peckish myself." Sherlock said, as though it were the strangest thing to ever happen.

"Could that possibly be because you haven't eaten more than a clementine orange and one lemon slice in about four days?"

Sherlock ignored Jayden's comment.

"Chinese take out?"

"Sounds delicious." Jayden licked his lips.

* * *

John did a double take as Sherlock and Jayden walked through the door.

Both of them were soaking wet, holding boxes of Chinese take out, and Jayden was howling with laughter. Sherlock was just smiling, but it was a grin John hadn't seen before. John looked them both up and down.

Mrs. Hudson then made an appearance.

"Oh my!" She exclaimed. "What did you two get into?"

Mrs. Hudson lightly set her hands on Jayden's shoulders and took a better look at him.

"You probably ought to get out of those clothes, dear, before you catch cold."

"A myth Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock said, "Simply an old wife's tale."

"Maybe, but you ought to get out of them all the same." Mrs. Hudson nodded.

"What about him?" Jayden asked, pointing to Sherlock. "He's just as wet as I am!"

"Ah, well, I gave up on keeping him healthy a long time ago." Mrs. Hudson said. "Alive, is all I care about now, and even that's difficult. I only make sure of the essentials now that John's here to keep him in line."

"I try my best." John said.

"And you do a good job, dear." Mrs. Hudson patted John on the shoulder while smiling sweetly. "I'd best be going now. I have to meet a couple about 221c. I think I might finally have a renter."

"Good luck." John said, as Mrs. Hudson exited the flat.

John looked back to Sherlock and Jayden.

"What am I going to do with you two?"

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry, I know I didn't update for a while. I've been busy. Hope you liked it. If you have any ideas for bonding scenes between Sherlock and Jayden, John and Jayden, or Mrs. Hudson and Jayden, please shoot me a pm. If I don't use it in this story, I might use the idea in another. I can always use some help!**


	16. Prank War

Sherlock and Jayden sat on the couch (still soaking wet) munching on what was left of their take out. John had chosen to sit in between them in hopes to prevent any more chaos. It didn't work.

Jayden, after watching Sherlock do so, started to use his chopsticks. He had never actually bothered to try using them before, it just made more sense to him to use a fork. However, it seemed to be a good boredom reducer while eating. He struggled to get the noodle to stay on his chopstick before finally becoming frustrated with it.

He tried once more, and only succeeded at flipping the noodle across the sofa. And onto Sherlock.

Sherlock looked down at the noodle which was now on his shoulder, then back up at Jayden. He then picked up the noodle with his chopsticks and threw it back at Jayden.

"Hey, I didn't mean to!" Jayden said, throwing the noodle back at him, along with a carrot.

"Why don't I believe you?" Sherlock asked. Over sailed a few peas, shortly followed by a noodle.

"Because you don't want to!" Jayden said. Jayden tried to get a pea pod to throw, but ended up knocking over his takeout box.

John looked down at the food that had been dumped in his lap, then looked back up at the both of them.

Sherlock and Jayden both inwardly winced.

 _Oops._

They expected John to be angry. He sure did look it. His face had reddened and his eyes were glaring.

He picked up both Sherlock and Jayden's food containers, then dumped them on both of their heads.

"That's the end of that." John declared, looking quite satisfied with himself. "Off to the shower with both of you. Sherlock, don't move a muscle."

John turned to look at Jayden, "You first."

"But John..."

"Not another word." John said. "Go. And wash your hair."

"I'm not stupid." Jayden mumbled. "Take a shower, wash your hair. It's obvious." He slowly made his way to the bathroom, careful not to drop the food on his head to the floor.

* * *

"Don't squish those peas on the sofa, Sherlock. You know they won't come out."

"But it's an-"

"I don't care if it's an experiment, you will not rub those peas into it." John said. "It's already been stained enough. Just wait a little longer. Jayden's almost done, I just heard the water turn off."

Within about a minute, Jayden appeared from the bathroom, squeaky clean.

Sherlock sauntered off to the bathroom, and John turned his attention to Jayden.

"Took you long enough."

"If you wanted a faster shower you shouldn't have dumped food in my hair." Jayden shrugged.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, pranks ensued. It was not unusual for John to hear a _**BANG!**_ and a high pitched scream, only to find out that Sherlock had gotten it rigged to where some chemicals mixed and created a small explosion when the toilet was flushed. Unfortunately, poor Mrs. Hudson got to it before Jayden did, and flushed the toilet while cleaning it. (Even though she _wasn't_ their housekeeper.) She was _not_ pleased.

Jayden fixed up a few trip wires that John had fallen victim to just as many times as Sherlock, the intended recipient, had. He had also had a bit of fun with the plumbing of the sink in the kitchen. That was how Sherlock ended up getting doused with water when he had been trying to refill one of his beakers.

Sherlock returned the favor by hiding every bag of crisps in the flat.

When Sherlock eventually succumbed to the needs of his body and fell asleep on the sofa, Jayden decided it was a good idea to put a large glob of whipped cream in Sherlock's hand, then tickle his face with a feather. Sherlock ignored it at first, but eventually reached up to smack it, thinking it was a house fly. He got a face full of whipped cream.

Then there was the incident with the missing skull.

Jayden should have known better.

* * *

"Where is my skull!?"

"Uh, I think it wraps around the spot where your brain should be." Jayden said.

"You know exactly what I mean!" Sherlock said, searching desperately for the skull.

"Yup."

"Where is it then!?" Sherlock asked.

"Not telling. You hid my school books."

"You hate your school books."

"Yeah, so?"

"Ugh!" Sherlock groaned. "Where is it?"

Jayden leaned back in Sherlock's chair, letting his legs flay out on the ground. His back was flat on the seat of the chair and his shoulders, neck, and head were curled up against the back rest.

"Zzzzzip!" Jayden said, running a finger across his mouth as he said the word.

"Why do people do that?!" Sherlock said. "Lips don't, never have, and never will have zips on them."

Jayden mumbled incoherently with his mouth closed.

Sherlock glared at him, then rolled his eyes as Jayden 'unzipped' his mouth.

"Zipper. Not zip." Jayden said.

"Americans." Sherlock groaned. "Is your whole point in life to annoy me?"

Jayden smiled triumphantly.

"Is it working?"

"Quite well." At the end of this sentence began a match of verbal sparring the likes of which the world has never seen. Sherlock had always been good with words, and it seemed Jayden was not exactly lacking in that area either.

John came back to the flat after his shift to find them both heavily engaged in the match. After watching for a few moments John decided that enough was enough.

 _ **"Shut up! Both of you!"**_ John yelled, trying to get his voice heard above theirs.

To his surprise, both heads instantly turned his way. They stood there for a moment, staring at him, and John realized he had no idea what he was going to say next.

"You're acting like a bunch of toddlers." John said, in a voice much more suited to inside the flat. "Now, what on earth is the problem?"

"He took my skull." Sherlock said.

"All this, was about that?" John asked incredulously.

"No, we were fighting about zips too." Sherlock said.

"Zippers," Jayden corrected.

"You're fighting about zips, and a skull." John repeated.

* * *

Hearing it from John's lips did make it sound sort of ridiculous.

* * *

Luckily for John, both Jayden and Sherlock had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed, their cheeks flushing red.

John sighed and rubbed his head.

 _What have I gotten myself into?_

"Give him back the skull." John said.

Jayden huffed, then sulked his way over to the fireplace and reached up into the chimney. He pulled it down, and brushed the soot from it. He grudgingly handed it over to Sherlock.

"Sherlock, now's when you say thank you."

"But he took it from me!" Sherlock said. "Why should I thank him?"

"Because he gave it back." John said. "Now thank him."

"Thank you." Sherlock said, almost inaudibly.

"Close enough." John mumbled. "I'm going out. I'll be back later."

 _These pranks have to stop..._ John thought. _They're going to end up killing each other. Or me. More likely me._

* * *

John sat on a bench in the park with a notebook and a pencil.

He sat there, scribbling at it for awhile, before being seemingly content with it. He admired his work.

 _What's a better way to stop a prank war, than with a prank?_ John thought, smiling at his own genius.

 _Time to call for some recruits. First on the list,_

 _ **Mycroft.**_

* * *

 **A/N: Oh oh... what is John planning to do? And Mycroft's getting involved? Must be big then... Reviews please!**


	17. Meeting with Mycroft

"I'd expect this of Sherlock, but not you Dr. Watson." Mycroft said, as both he and John walked swiftly down the road toward a cafe near by. "Now, what was it that you found so important as to interrupt my meeting with the Prime Minister?"

"Sherlock and Jayden have been pranking each other, and frankly, I'm not sure I can handle it any longer, so I'm putting an end to it." John said. "But I need help. I've worked out the basic plan, all I need you to do is make it come alive."

John handed Mycroft the notebook, and Mycroft looked it over.

"What makes you think I would help?" Mycroft asked, handing the notebook back.

"Because you think that seeing Sherlock get a taste of his own medicine would be entertaining." John said, crossing his arms and looking at Mycroft pointedly.

"Good point..." Mycroft said slowly. "I do love to watch him squirm. It might need a bit of editing though."

Mycroft scribbled a few changes on the note pad, then presented it to John.

"I don't know," John said hesitantly. "It's a bit too realistic, don't you think?"

"Isn't that the point?"

It was. Sort of. But John didn't really want to scare Sherlock out of his mind.

"You know Sherlock, he's calm in danger." Mycroft said. "It would take something more extreme than what you planned to shake him up."

"I guess so..." John said, but he was still unsure. Mycroft had a point, but still.

"Good, then I'll get started." Mycroft said. "Get Sherlock and Jayden out of the house between 12:00pm and 2:00pm. Make him angry at you if at all possible. It would make it more effective. He would think it was his idea to leave."

"Are you sure he won't have a more... emotional response than we're looking for?" John asked.

"Positive John, I know my brother." Mycroft said. "Do stop worrying, it's annoying."

"Al-alright then." John nodded. "I-I guess I'll be going."

"Goodbye John Watson." Mycroft said. "I'm sure I will see you _very_ soon."

* * *

As John walked away, he couldn't help but wonder if this was a good idea at all.

But Mycroft Holmes was in on it now.

John had no choice but to continue.

* * *

 _ **Next Day**_

* * *

John woke up, and remembered what he had to do.

He dreaded the prospect. He had to make Sherlock mad at him.

John hated it when Sherlock was mad at him. It wasn't often, but when it did happen, John felt really, really bad about it. Because Sherlock didn't get mad like a normal person. He acted overly angry when it was just a little thing, but when it was something big, something that really hurt him, he just went silent. He withdrew into himself, and stopped talking. He would go out for awhile, usually to the tower at the North end of Westminster palace, where he would sit in the face of the clock and look out at the land below him. He would stay there until he had calmed down, then come back to the flat. He didn't force John to apologize, nor did he apologize himself. He just settled back into regular life, and John followed him.

John tried to guess how angry he would have to make Sherlock to leave. He also tried to think of the best way to do it.

Stemming a fight off of one of Sherlock's insults seemed to be the best idea. But he needed to make it reasonable. He needed to have a reason to react badly since he usually didn't. It was then an idea came into his mind. He needed to pretend to be in a bad mood.

John rubbed his eyes briskly, making them appear red, and purposely set a slight tremor to his left hand. He successfully walked with a tad of a fake limp. This would be just enough that it would appear that he had had nightmares in the night, bad ones, which would give him a reason for being in such a terrible mood.

If he were faking anything else, John knew Sherlock would be able to see right through it. But as it was, John had noticed that on days when his PTSD was acting up more than normal (when there was a long period in which they had no cases) Sherlock didn't deduce him. At all. Sherlock just looked at the signs and deduced just enough to know that it was one of those days, then sort of just left John to himself. Sherlock would do little things throughout the day, just little things that made easier for John, like making tea, not doing noisy experiments, or even complaining. John knew this, because he had tested it, faking it before. When Sherlock saw the initial signs, he instantly stopped deducing, quick enough that he didn't even know the symptoms were fake.

John hated taking advantage of the one time Sherlock was actually almost... nice, but it was the only way he could think of.

* * *

Sherlock knew John was going to be grouchy the moment he saw him. Sherlock had made the tea this morning and John hadn't even noticed. He usually at least mumbled a 'thanks' or something. Meanwhile, Jayden was draped across Sherlock's chair and listening to an audio-book while eating from a bag of crisps, entirely oblivious to the tension in the flat. John knew that Sherlock was quite competitive, and no matter how hard he tried, he still had trouble control his tongue once he was riled up. As expected, Sherlock did eventually slip up and call someone an idiot, not John, but someone else, and there's where John started the fight.

"Not everyone is an idiot, Sherlock." John said.

"Name me one person that isn't."

John then proceeded to list everyone that he thought Sherlock might possibly care about.

"Lestrade, Molly, me, Jayden, Mrs. Hudson..." There were a few more added to this list as well.

"You're all idiots." Sherlock said indignantly.

"Is that right?" John asked, giving Sherlock that look he usually reserved for when he was very, very angry. "We're all idiots?"

"Of course it is, haven't you heard me for the past five and a half years?" Sherlock said.

"Yeah I have, I've just tried to ignore you up until now." John said. "I thought you might eventually change your mind. Now I see that I was wrong. I thought you would change, but you haven't!"

The fight just went on from there, Sherlock getting increasingly angry until time seemed to stop, and he just closed his eyes.

 _It worked._ John mused. _Now what am I going to do about Jayden?_

"I-I'm going out." Sherlock said. He grabbed his coat then headed toward the door, pausing once he got to it. "Will you accompany me, Jayden?"

 _Well, that problem straightened itself out quite nicely._ John thought.

Jayden, hearing his name, for the first time realized that they had said anything at all. He pulled the ear buds out of his ears, then looked back up at Sherlock.

"Sorry. What did you say?" Jayden asked. "I was sort of immersed. I just got to the part in this story where the guy-"

"I understand, Jayden." Sherlock sighed. "Will you come with me?"

It was then Jayden seemed to notice the tension in the room.

"Sure?" He said. "Just let me get my shoes."

Jayden shoved his shoes on his feet, shot John a confused glance, then followed Sherlock out the door.

* * *

 **A/N: So, here's the next chapter. What did you think? John's starting to regret all this a bit isn't he? I wonder what he and Mycroft have planned... Mycroft is a cruel isn't he? I mean, his edits must have been pretty interesting if they made even John Watson, the hardened war veteran, squirm. _Reviews please!_**


	18. Showtime

"Are you positive this is a good idea?" John asked Mycroft for the umpteenth time.

"Yes, John." Mycroft sighed. "Just do as I say. Everything has to go exactly according to my plan."

John swallowed, then nodded.

 _I thought it was my plan..._

* * *

Sherlock and Jayden sat side by side in the face of the clock tower.

"So..." Jayden started out awkwardly. "You come here often?"

Sherlock shook his head.

"Just when I need to cool down a bit; it's a good spot to think."

"Oh." Jayden said, swinging his feet beneath him.

"I have a spot like this, well, I say have, it's back in California." Jayden said, staring at his feet. "I always liked to sit on top the roof of the children's home."

"Hope you were careful." Sherlock said, "Roofs are dangerous... One fall can change everything."

"So I've heard." Jayden looked back up at Sherlock. "What did you do while you were gone?"

"A lot of things I wish I didn't have to." Sherlock sighed.

There was a moment of silence.

"Does John know about this place?" Jayden asked.

"I think so, yes." Sherlock said.

"You think?"

"He's walked beneath it and looked at it while I was up here." Sherlock said. "But we've never actually discussed it."

They sat in comfortable silence for over an hour, before Sherlock decided they ought to leave.

* * *

Mycroft saw Sherlock and Jayden coming towards the flat on the screen.

 _Show time._ He thought, a twisted smile coming to his face.

* * *

The moment Sherlock saw the flat, he knew something was off.

The door was closed, but showed signs of a forced entry.

"Stay close." Sherlock muttered, pulling Jayden behind him.

"What's going on?" Jayden whispered.

"I think there's someone in the flat." Sherlock answered, his eyebrows coming together in suspicion. "Someone who's not supposed to be there."

"Stay behind me, we're going in." Sherlock said. "Try to find something to arm yourself with."

Jayden nodded.

Sherlock turned the knob, then pushed open the door. As he did, a small smear of blood on the handle caught his attention.

 _Intruder bleeding before he entered?_

 _Why?_

 _Might have cut himself as he forced the door open..._

Sherlock walked farther into the hall, before pausing at the stairs.

 _Blood on the stairs._

 _Someone must have been drug either up or down the stairs..._

 _Both._

 _First up, then back down again..._

 _Why?_

A voice broke through his thoughts.

"Sh-Sherlock?" Only Jayden's voice betrayed his fear, as his face had remained neutral. Jayden cleared his throat, having heard the slight shake himself. Then he spoke again, in a voice that told nothing.

"Is that John's blood?" he asked.

 _Why did he have to say that?_

 _Why did Jayden have to state the fact that I've worked so diligently to ignore?_

"Possibly," Sherlock answered, "But let's not jump to conclusions just yet."

Sherlock worked to free his mind of any sentimental bias.

 _Come on. Come on. Come on. Come on. Come on... Focus!_

Sherlock forced himself to continue walking up the stairs, despite the fact that for the first time he could remember the sight of blood churned his stomach.

 _It's probably John's._ His mind supplied.

 _Shut up! I- I- No jumping to conclusions!_ His conscious thought responded.

Sherlock heard a sudden rush of breath, Jayden's, he realized. Sherlock looked up to the door in front of him to see that there were bloody hand prints on it, along with a swipe of blood, as though someone had been pushed against it, then slid down.

Something triggered in Sherlock's mind, a short clip of memory depicting a similar scene to that which was in front of him. Even after dwelling on it for a few moments, he still couldn't place it. But he _had_ seen something similar before.

 _Old case?_

Careful not to disturb any evidence that might come in handy, Sherlock advanced.

The flat was in utter disarray, and a struggle had obviously occurred.

"Don't touch anything." Sherlock said.

Jayden looked at the wall where more blood smears were present.

"Wasn't planning on it." He answered.

As they walked through the flat, Sherlock found himself hoping more and more to find John around the next corner. But he never did.

After making a thorough search, Sherlock determined that John wasn't here.

 _He's gone._

Sherlock felt a cold sweep over him as he struggled to believe the fact. In his mind, he ran over every place he had searched. He hadn't missed anywhere.

The chill persisted as he slipped his hand into his pocket. He felt a bit light headed as he dialed the familiar phone number.

Sherlock listened as the phone rang.

* * *

Lestrade frowned at the stack of paper work on his desk. He'd already been working on it for three hours, and he fairly certain that the height of the stack hadn't changed one bit.

 _If anything,_ he thought, _it's grown._

His mobile rung and he immediately answered it, thankful for the short break it presented.

"Lestrade-"

 _Sherlock. He sounds... lost. Unsure._

 _Something is wrong._

"What is it Sherlock? Where are you?" Lestrade said.

Lestrade snapped his fingers for Donovan's attention. She looked over from her desk and nodded, signaling that she was ready for orders.

"Sherlock, tell me what's wrong." Lestrade prompted with urgency.

Lestrade listened as Sherlock explained the situation.

"Okay," Lestrade said, "Don't go anywhere, I'm on my way."

Lestrade hung up the phone and stood immediately.

"What's happening?" Donovan asked.

"I need three cars at Baker St. now. One with me in it." Lestrade said, as he put on his coat. "Try to get people Sherlock recognizes."

"Why?" Sally asked.

"John's been kidnapped." Lestrade said. "And from what I gather, the scene isn't pretty."

* * *

 **A/N: Alright, there was previously a sentence that said "and he became dead" I apologize for that, my little brother got a hold of my computer and added that. I had already proof read it by then, and didn't read it again after that, so I didn't catch it. So if you've already read this, that was not intended. Again, sorry.**


	19. Not a Pretty Scene

Lestrade arrived on scene and didn't miss the blood on the stairs as he walked up.

"Blood on the stairs, Anderson." He said, as he continued walking.

"On it." Anderson called back.

On Lestrade's tail, and climbing the stairs right after him, was Sally.

They made it through the front door, and Lestrade called into the building.

"Sherlock!"

"In the kitchen, Lestrade." Sherlock answered.

Lestrade rounded the corner and saw Sherlock kneeling on the floor, examining a foot print, made visible by blood. Either John, or the attacker/attackers must have stepped in it.

Lestrade looked around, taking in the scene.

"Are you alright?" Lestrade asked.

"I'm fine." Sherlock said. "They were gone by the time we got here."

"You know that's not what I meant- wait- we?"

"Jayden, my brother." Sherlock pointed to the figure in the corner of the kitchen who was leaning against one of the few walls that was untouched.

Lestrade's eyes widened.

"Don't worry, I'm adopted." Jayden said. "You won't have another super genius to deal with."

"Can we get back to the point now?" Sherlock said, as he pulled out his pocket magnifier to examine a piece of soil more closely. "John's missing, if I remember correctly."

There was an unmistakable note of irritation in his voice.

"Right, sorry." Lestrade said.

Lestrade glanced around the crime scene, before realizing he had no where to start.

"Do you have any leads?" Lestrade asked.

"Not yet." Sherlock said, glancing up at Lestrade. "And don't look so surprised. I've only been here a few minutes longer than you. Give me a second."

Sherlock scanned the scene, stopping here and there to look closer.

* * *

 _Gather evidence, and create a hypothesis ..._

Sherlock paused.

 _What's next?_

 _Oh, yes, mentally test_ _hypothesis._

Sherlock's mind gave him rapid fire deductions based on what he was seeing, hearing, feeling, and smelling. He watched the moments in which John had been kidnapped so vividly, it was as if he were there. He followed John and his kidnappers throughout the flat, watching the placement of every finger, foot, and hand. He watched every bit of evidence there was come into existence.

 _I can see his face._ Sherlock realized. _I can see his face as this happened..._

Sherlock studied John's face, and found the look alarmed him.

John didn't look scared, but he never did. His face was always neutral in danger.

No, it wasn't facial expression that bothered him.

It was the look in his eyes.

Most people call eyes 'The Window to the Soul' and Sherlock never found any reason to dispute that, despite lack of physical evidence.

When Sherlock looked into John's eyes, he saw fear. He saw worry, he saw anger, and excitement. Sherlock almost smiled at that last one.

 _You always are one for danger._ Sherlock thought fondly. _Probably why we get along so well. Danger follows me like a magnet._

Sherlock continued following the happenings until he got to the stairway again. He watched John get dragged down it, only semi-conscious, yet still trying to fight.

 _The kidnappers slammed John's head against the door, and John stopped struggling, the blow having rid him of consciousness. The kidnappers just watched as he slid down the door, then picked him up off the ground, and carried him out the door and into the waiting car..._

* * *

 _Blood. Blood everywhere, on the walls, on the floor, on the counters..._ Jayden thought.

 _John fought them hard, some of it's probably one of the kidnappers's blood._

Jayden walked down the stairs, only to notice that Lestrade was speaking to Sherlock in hushed tones. Jayden quietly made his way back up, and sat a top the stairs, listening.

 _I shouldn't be eavesdropping._ He thought. _But I really want to. But I shouldn't. But I really want to._

Jayden fought with himself in his mind, but ultimately, his wants won out.

* * *

Lestrade watched Sherlock closely. He seemed to be doing alright with all of this, but you could never tell with him. Sherlock just sort of kept everything buried inside.

"Sherlock, listen, if this is to close to you..." Lestrade said quietly, debating his next words. "We can handle it, you don't have to do this."

"I have to help, Greg." Sherlock answered, letting only a trace of emotion into his voice. Only those who had known him for years could recognize it.

"I know." Lestrade said. "Just don't do anything stupid. You find something, you tell me. Don't go off on your own. If you go against that, I'm taking you off the case. The last thing we need is to have to look for you too."

"I know." Sherlock's eyes traveled to the floor, unfocusing as he focused back in his thoughts.

"You're only human," Lestrade said. "And I **_will_** be making sure you remember that this time."

There was a short pause in conversation, and Sherlock began to

"Anderson's here?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah, he's upstairs, why?" Lestrade asked.

"I need him to start taking down finger prints." Sherlock said. "I know where they're at. There's also a small rip of fabric from one of the kidnappers' coat caught on the mantel."

* * *

When Mrs. Hudson got back from her knitting club Sherlock sent Jayden down to watch the telly in her flat since there wasn't much he could help with. Most of the Yard had left, only Anderson and Lestrade still present. Legally, Lestrade was required to watch as Sherlock and Anderson bagged evidence. Anderson seemed to be relatively agreeable at the moment.

"This doesn't make any sense" Anderson muttered. "Even if they were amateurs, this is still a ridiculous amount of evidence to leave behind. It's almost as if they wanted to be caught."

Sherlock, who was beside him currently, shook his head.

"No, they did this purposely. They made sure to leave conflicting evidence to confuse us and get us off course." Sherlock said. "That's why we have to get every bit of it. It won't be easy to determine what was left purposely, and what was an accident."

"Could take ages..." Anderson commented.

"And that's exactly what we don't have." Sherlock answered. Sherlock pointed over to another section of the room. "There's finger prints on that chair, be sure you get them."

They worked for hours, going over, and bagging anything they possibly could.

* * *

Lestrade looked over at Sherlock, who was staring intently at a finger print he had just dusted.

They had gone over every inch of the flat 3 times now, and Lestrade was fairly sure that there was nothing more to be bagged. Still, Sherlock and Anderson worked to find anything they had missed.

After another hour Lestrade looked down to his watch to check the time. It was 1 in the morning.

Lestrade walked over to where Sherlock was admiring the finger print, and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly.

"I think we've got enough for now." Lestrade said. "It's been a long day, you should get some rest."

"I'm fine." Sherlock said. "Besides, there's bound to be more somewhere." Sherlock brushed Lestrade's hand off of him.

"He's right, Sherlock." Anderson said. "We've run over the place several times already; we've gotten pretty much all we can get."

Sherlock stood up and looked around.

"It's one in the morning, and I'm going to guess you didn't sleep last night." Lestrade said. "You're bound to be exhausted. You'll be able to think better once you've gotten some rest."

Sherlock thought about it a moment, and couldn't deny that Lestrade was probably correct. Sherlock could almost feel his brain slowing down the more weary he got.

Sherlock hesitated, but nodded.

"Come on, you and Jayden can kip at my house for the night." Lestrade said, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

Sherlock turn to him, looking confused.

"Why?" He asked.

"Well, you can't sleep here, can you?" Lestrade said. "Mrs. Hudson only has one couch, and I don't imagine you'd like to stay with Mycroft."

After a moment, the logic of the words seemed to reach Sherlock's mind.

* * *

 _I must be more tired than I thought. My mind seems so... slow. Like I'm walking through water._

Sherlock nodded in agreement.

"Jayden's down stairs, probably still watching the telly." Sherlock said. "I'm going to get him. We'll be out in a moment."

* * *

Lestrade nodded, and watched as Sherlock walked out the door of his flat and went down the stairs to get Jayden.

"You too Anderson." Lestrade said. "Go home, get some sleep. We'll need you again in the morning."

"Figured you would." Anderson said.

"Make sure to keep him in the loop." Lestrade said. "Don't hold anything back from him."

"But protocol says-"

"Have you ever known protocol to apply to Sherlock Holmes?"

"I guess not, point taken."

Lestrade collected his stuff then went down and sat in his car, waiting for Sherlock and Jayden to come out.

When they did, Lestrade started chuckling immediately. Sherlock walked out of the door, almost carrying Jayden, who was half asleep. Sherlock stuck Jayden in the back seat, then went around to the passenger seat and got in.

"Asleep, was he?" Lestrade asked.

"Obviously." Sherlock said. "It'd take a blow horn to wake him up before he wants to."

* * *

 **A/N: So here is the next chapter! I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews please!**


	20. A Lot of Guts

While Sherlock got Jayden onto the futon and comfortable, Lestrade made two cups of tea.

"Cuppa?" Lestrade offered.

"Thank you." Sherlock said quietly, as he accepted the glass.

Lestrade sat down in one of the two chairs in the living room, not counting the couch, and Sherlock sat in the other.

As they drank their tea, Lestrade noticed that Sherlock seemed a little listless, more interested in his mind, than in the world around it.

"What are you thinking?" Lestrade asked.

Sherlock shrugged, looking up slowly, in a way that Lestrade thought much resembled a cat.

"Just running over what happened." Sherlock said, then looked back to his tea, rubbing his fingers around the front of the cup. He took a sip. A moment of silence passed there, but Lestrade's mind was still moving.

"I may not have a telepathic link with you like John does, but I do know you, Sherlock." Lestrade said. "I have for a long time. Longer than anyone else I can think of."

Lestrade said all of this with an underlying tone of which Sherlock was very used to hearing from John. Sherlock mentally called it the, _"What aren't you telling me?"_ tone. Sighing, Sherlock returned his attention to Lestrade. He really didn't want to discuss it, especially not until he figured out more.

"It's nothing, just... something's off." Sherlock said.

"With the scene?"

Sherlock nodded, his face taking a look that Lestrade hadn't seen before. It was a thinking look, obviously, but it was different than his usual. Lestrade wasn't sure what to make of it yet.

"Not just that, the whole thing is... strange." Sherlock said, then sighed. "I don't know how to explain it."

"You don't need to." Lestrade said. "I know what your talking about. Feels like something's nibbling at your ear, does it? Like you know something's there but can't figure out what."

"Interestingly described Lestrade, but yes," Sherlock said, "I do believe we're talking about the same thing."

"It's got a name you know." Lestrade said. "You won't like it though."

"Won't I?" Sherlock asked passively.

"You would probably call it intuition," Lestrade said, "But most would say it's a gut feeling."

"There is a difference, Lestrade." Sherlock said.

"Hm?"

"All gut feelings are tools of intuition, but not all intuition is gut feelings. Intuition is considered seeing arch types and common themes, thus being able to guess, usually quite accurately, what will happen next in that particular circumstance." Sherlock explained. "Intuition develops when you're subconsciously processing evidence and coming to a conclusion in mere moments. The downfall of intuition is that most will have no idea what the evidence was on which they based their conclusion. In this case, there is no thought process to my uneasiness. As much as I would like to say otherwise, what is bothering me is most _definitely_ classified a gut feeling."

Sherlock stopped there, suddenly uncomfortable for a moment.

"I took a class in Uni when I went," Lestrade said, "And my professor took three weeks to teach us what intuition is, and he didn't explain it half as well as you just have in five sentences."

For an unknown reason, even to himself, Sherlock flushed slightly at the praise.

"I didn't think you liked psychology." Lestrade said. "It changes all the time, it's not a hard science."

"I often use softer sciences, they're necessary to deduction." Sherlock said quietly. "Things like psychology, sociology, religion, all of them play a part. I suppose the science of deduction, could be accurately called a soft science. I find the conclusion with soft sciences, and prove them with hard ones."

"Hmm..." Lestrade said. "Well that'll give me something to think about tonight, not that I don't already have enough on my mind."

Sherlock smirked, and Lestrade knew he had accomplished his mission. He had been trying to make Sherlock smile, but not that he would ever admit it.

As much as Sherlock would like to appear as though he was unshaken by John's kidnapping, Lestrade knew he was.

"Well, we'd best be getting to sleep." Lestrade said. "See you in the morning."

Sherlock nodded, and drank the last of his tea, before slipping in next to Jayden on the futon.

Lestrade flipped the light off, then said goodnight, and all went quiet.

* * *

Sherlock lay awake, staring up at the ceiling, and feeling a little bit guilty.

He had lied to Lestrade. Well, not entirely, but partially.

Something did feel off with the case, but that's not the thought that had been rotating in his mind.

It was that moment when that little clip of memory seeped into his mind. It was strange, the fear, the terror that little clip brought to him. Even considering the time in which he had remembered it, the emotion it brought was still unfitting. But it wasn't just fear that radiated from that memory, anger and ambition showed their faces, as well as deception and... what was that? Hurt? Pain? Something like that?

Those emotions weren't entirely unsuitable for the situation, but Sherlock felt extremely guilty that the clip was the source of them, and not John's disappearance. There were, of course, emotions rooted in that as well, which only multiplied the pull of the irrational, emotionally based part of Sherlock's mind. Emotions didn't bode well for him, they never had.

Sherlock tried desperately to relax, but his mind was smothered with thoughts, all of them blurring together due to exhaustion, and never becoming ideas.

 _Where is John?_

 _Is he alright?_

 _Is he hurt?_

 _Where did that memory come from?_

 _How can I see more of it?_

 _Do I even want to?_

Sleep finally graced him two torturous hours later.

* * *

John plopped himself onto Mycroft's cold leather couch.

"How long do I have to stay here?" he asked, looking around the mansion.

"A week, give or take." Mycroft said. "It will give me the necessary time to prepare for the climax of the trick."

"A week?!" John exclaimed. "How much have you changed my plan?! I- I was only supposed to be 'kidnapped' for an hour!"

"I figured it could use a bit of a tune up." Mycroft said. "Plus, it's much more fun this way. So, get settled. You'll be here awhile. He's already alerted the detective inspector..."

"Greg." John supplied. "And of course he has. Lestrade is always his backup if I can't be. It only makes sense that he's the first person he would contact."

"Hm..." Mycroft hummed. "Sherlock and Jayden seem to be staying with him until the flat has been investigated, repaired, and cleaned entirely."

"Repaired? Cleaned?" John asked. "What have you done to our flat?!"

John's face was taking on a crimson shade, and reverting to the expression he usually only used when he was absolutely furious with Sherlock.

"Relax, Doctor, my team will make sure everything that was broken is replaced." Mycroft said. "It will all be worth it in the end. Just give it time."

* * *

 **A/N: So, what did you think of that? Was that interesting? I liked it, so I hope so. Anyway, reviews please!**


	21. No Idea

_A scream._

* * *

Sherlock woke up with a start, barely managing not to jump out of bed. As he tried to catch his breath, he looked down at Jayden next to him, who was fast asleep. Sherlock didn't hear anything, which meant Lestrade probably wasn't awake either.

 _Dreaming then._

 _Good._

Sherlock sighed, and got up.

Jayden managed to kick his blanket off in the night, and the flat was chilly this morning, so Sherlock threw the blanket back over him.

 _Best to let him sleep._

Sherlock sat in the same chair he had the night before, and just watched Jayden sleep while his mind wandered.

 _Dream..._

 _What was it about?_

 _Don't remember..._

 _Scream?_

 _Where did the scream come from?_

 _Recognized the voice... Who's was it?_

 _Not John, not Jayden, not Molly, not Lestrade, not Mrs. Hudson, and definitely not Mycroft._

 _Then who?_

"Not important. Not important. Not important." Sherlock muttered to himself.

 _John._

 _John's missing, John's kidnapped._

 _Why would someone kidnap John?_

 _Someone from his army days wanting revenge?_

 _No, can't be that, who would want revenge on a doctor?_

 _Unless he didn't save their life, then they might want revenge._

 _But then they'd be dead, so that's not possible._

 _Family member of a dead soldier?_

 _Unlikely they'd hunt the doctor down instead of the killer._

Sherlock noticed another presence had joined the room, and he looked over to the point in which the hallway met the living room.

"I'm surprised you're up." Lestrade said, walking into the room.

"Couldn't sleep." Sherlock answered.

Lestrade walked into the kitchen, and Sherlock heard the coffee maker start up.

Sherlock ventured into the room, sitting down at the table. He watched Lestrade prepare his coffee.

"Black, two sugars, right?"

Sherlock nodded almost imperceptibly, his mind in another place.

Lestrade sat down across from him at the table, and passed a steaming mug over to him.

Sherlock inhaled in the scent before taking an experimental sip.

It was a tad hotter than he had expected, but not scalding.

They sat in silence for a few moments before Lestrade spoke.

"Couldn't or didn't?"

"Hm?" Sherlock turned his gaze up to Lestrade.

"You couldn't sleep, or you didn't try?"

One side of his lips quirked up, forming something between a smile and a grimace.

"The first one." Sherlock answered.

In attempt to change the subject, Sherlock spoke again.

"I didn't ask for coffee." he said, his tone not accusing, but rather questioning.

"Maybe not, but you're going to need it." Lestrade said. "We all are, if we plan to avoid falling flat our faces by the end of the day."

"I wouldn't put it past your team to trip over their own shoe laces..." Sherlock responded.

Lestrade shrugged,

"I take what I can get."

* * *

Jayden yawned.

He flopped himself off of the futon, and began to walk into the kitchen where Sherlock and Lestrade were sitting.

* * *

Lestrade tried to hold back a chuckle as Jayden walked straight into the wall. Lestrade glanced over to Sherlock, who seemed to be quite amused as well.

"Not a morning person, are you?" Lestrade asked.

Jayden mumbled something Lestrade couldn't quite make out.

"What was that?" he asked.

"I said it wasn't there last night." Jayden muttered.

"How would you know?" Lestrade said. "You were asleep."

Jayden raised an eyebrow.

"Wait- you were just pretending, weren't you?" Lestrade said, crossing his arms.

Jayden shrugged,

"Didn't want to walk."

Sherlock didn't seem to care much, Lestrade noticed.

 _He knew the whole time._ Lestrade realized. _He carried him anyway._

"Well, now that we're all up, we'd best be getting off then. I told Anderson to send the evidence to the lab at St. Bart's." Lestrade said.

"Why?" Sherlock asked.

Lestrade shrugged.

"It's bigger, you're used to it." he said. "You work faster there than you do in our forensics lab, and Anderson couldn't care less where he does his work. Only makes sense."'

"Hm."

"Both of you get ready," Lestrade said, "there should be cereal in the cabinet if you're hungry."

Fifteen minutes later, they were all in the car.

* * *

They came up to the laboratory where they would process and analyze the evidence they had found. Anderson walked through the door almost immediately afterwards.

"So, what do we look for?" Lestrade asked.

There was a tense moment where Sherlock felt like a deer caught in headlights.

Jayden, Lestrade, and Anderson were all staring at him, waiting for orders.

 _I have no idea._

 _The one time that I have full cooperation, and I have NO IDEA!_

Sherlock just stood there as alarm bells began ringing in his head, telling him he should move, talk, or react in some way. Basically, do anything at all.

But he didn't.

He was frozen as panic settled in on his mind.

 _John's missing._

 _There are dozens of clues._

 _And I have no ideas at all._

 _In fact, I can't think._

 _My brain is muddled, things aren't fitting together like they normally do._

 _Alright. Alright... Need to run diagnostics. Find the factors that are causing trouble._

 _Okay... Memory... Memory is fine..._

Sherlock heard mumbling in the background, but was in his mind, and thus unable to make sense of it.

 _Diagnostics failed. Situation too noisy. Need to find quiet space with limited/controlled sensory distractions._

 _Solution: Escape current environment._

Sherlock quickly brought his mind back into the real world just in time to hear the tail end of a question spoken by Anderson.

"... where do we start?"

Sherlock knew there had probably been more to that question, but just used the question that his mind supplied.

* * *

"Anderson, you..." Sherlock trailed off for only a moment, a short enough silence that it was nearly undetectable. But Lestrade noticed. "Organize the evidence. Put it in piles, put everything alike in the same spot. Jayden, help him, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. And vice versa."

Sherlock seemed in an awful hurry to get those words out of his mouth.

"Lestrade, I don't think that white powder we found has any importance, but I'm going to run it through the mass spectrometer just in case it does." Sherlock said. "I need you to prepare the sample."

It was a moment before Sherlock realized that Lestrade was purposefully staring at him.

"What?" He asked.

"I'm a detective," Lestrade said, "not a chemist. I don't know how."

Sherlock sighed and rubbed his forehead in frustration.

* * *

 _Escape. Escape. Escape._

 _Why can't I even escape?_

"He can do it then." Sherlock said, pointing to Jayden.

"But I don't-"

"Yes, you do." Sherlock said, before Jayden could even finish his protest. "I showed you, remember?"

"No you- Wait- so that's what you were doing?" Jayden asked. "You call doing it while I was in the same room 'showing me'?"

 _Quiet._

 _Stop talking!_

 _I need quiet!_

Sherlock felt himself growing more desperate for silence.

"You do remember how though, don't you?" Sherlock said.

"Yes..."

"Then I think it counts." Sherlock said. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

* * *

Lestrade noticed that Sherlock left the room quicker, and with more urgency than he usually would.

 _Well,_ he thought, _He didn't give me a job..._

* * *

Sherlock tried to prevent himself from running out of the room. Once he was in the empty hallway though, he let himself speed up a little. He eventually found himself in the morgue.

Coincidentally, it was Molly Hooper's shift.

* * *

 **A/N: What's going to happen when Sherlock sees Molly? Will he leave? If he stays, what will they talk about? How soon are Lestrade, Anderson, and Jayden going to wonder where he went? Reviews are much appreciated.**


	22. Just a Normal Case

Sherlock slowly walked up behind the pathologist, his feet making only the slightest sound on the hard floor.

 _Out of all days for her to be here!_ Sherlock thought.

 _She just **has** to be here when I want to be alone!_

In his distraction Sherlock stumbled slightly, making a little more noise than he had meant to. Molly turned in his direction.

"Oh, Sherlock." She said. "Didn't expect to see you here today. You usually call ahead."

Molly went back to the autopsy she was doing.

"Here for more fingers?" she asked. "Maybe eye balls this time?"

Sherlock shook his head.

"What then?" Molly asked. "A brain?"

Sherlock didn't answer, just walked closer, observing the body on the table.

"Here just to think then, hm?" She asked. "Awfully quiet today, aren't you?"

Sherlock nodded in confirmation.

Molly looked around the room.

"Where's John?" she asked, a tad of worry coming to her face. "Has something happened?"

Sherlock still didn't answer.

 _I need to answer her._

 _I don't know what to say._

 _Can I just ignore her?_

"Sherlock?"

 _Apparently not._

 _Lie?_

 _No, I couldn't do that to Molly?_

 _Avoid question?_

 _No, she's too smart, she'll persist._

"Sherlock, what's wrong?"

Sherlock looked up at Molly, who was now standing in front of him.

"John's missing." Sherlock said. "He's been kidnapped."

"Oh my... What are-"

Sherlock raised a hand, halting her speech.

"B-Before you say anything else, can we just treat this like a normal case?" Sherlock asked.

Molly hesitated in answering.

"Please, Molly." Sherlock said. "I-I need normal."

"Alright then." Molly nodded. "So long as it helps you."

"It will." Sherlock paused, then added, "Thank you."

"Just a warning though Sherlock, " Molly said. "If you do this, it will come crashing down on you eventually."

"What will?" Sherlock asked.

 _I know the answer, why am I asking?_ Sherlock thought. _Confirming it, maybe?_

"This is John, Sherlock. He's your best friend." Molly said. "I'll do what you ask, but just know that there will be consequences to bottling it up. You are human, Sherlock."

Molly walked closer to him.

"The stress, the fear," She said, "it will make it's way out eventually."

"I know." Sherlock's eyes averted towards the floor.

"You were in the lab upstairs, weren't you?" Molly said. "Something happened, you came down here to calm down, didn't you?"

* * *

Sherlock didn't answer, and Molly wrapped her arms around him in a hug. To her surprise, he didn't pull away.

"Oh Sherlock..." she said.

 _He's scared, and making himself go crazy with worry._ Molly thought. _He's desperate for reassurance, for comfort, but can't find it in himself to ask..._

 _"_ It's going to be alright." Molly said. "You'll catch him."

"I won't Molly..." Sherlock said. "Something changed. I-I can't think like this."

It never ceased to amaze Molly how Sherlock could say something without the slightest bit of emotion in his voice, no matter how upset he was. Molly found herself both fascinated, and horrified.

Sherlock's ability to hide what he was feeling made her doubt herself.

How many times had Sherlock been upset, and people not even know it?

Another thing, why did Sherlock put forth so much effort to hide it?

* * *

Molly broke the hug, then looked back up at him.

"You'll get it figured out, you always do." She said. "I believe in you, Sherlock."

Sherlock looked up, meeting her eyes.

"And nothing will ever change that." Molly gently smiled.

 _She means it._ Sherlock thought.

 _She's not lying._

 _I'm not alone._

 _I have... I have Molly, Lestrade, Jayden, Mrs. Hudson, and ugh- Anderson._

 _Actually... he's not been that bad lately. And Scotland yard is being helpful..._

 _Everyone wants to find John._

 _Not just me._

 _Everyone is helping._

 _The entirety of Scotland yard is at my back, waiting for orders from me._

 _Why?_

 _John is good..._

 _John is my best friend, John is my flat mate._

 _I know him best of everyone, they expect me to take lead._

 _Everyone is helping..._

 _I can do this._

 _I can keep everything together, I can keep everything in order._

 _At least until we find him._

 _After that..._

 _Molly's right._

 _There are going to be consequences._

 _There are going to be problems in my mind palace._

 _No one can come inside my mind palace._

 _I'll have to take care of them alone._

 _It won't be pretty._

 _But I can deal with that._

 _John is worth it._

 _Normal case. Normal case. Normal case._

Sherlock mentally repeated that in his mind over, over, and over.

 _I can do this._

Sherlock withdrew from his mind, forcing himself back into the real world.

"Ready to focus now, Sherlock?" Molly asked. "Are you ready to get back to work?"

Sherlock nodded.

"I've got things fixed, for now."

"Good." she smiled.

"Solve me a crime, Sherlock Holmes."

* * *

What was originally a disagreement between Anderson and Jayden had quickly escalated to an argument.

Both were red faced with anger, and the volume of the fight was going up by the second.

Apparently the dislike of Anderson was a Holmes family trait.

"Just do it how I tell you, and we'll both be done!" Jayden said.

"I'm a forensic scientist! I've been to university for this!" Anderson returned. "Why should I listen to a kid who just started high school?"

"Because you're not doing it right!" Jayden said. "You're getting the evidence all mixed up!"

"No, I'm not! You are!"

Lestrade groaned.

 _Ugh. I hope Sherlock doesn't just join in when he comes back. We won't get anything done._

Lestrade glanced up from his stack of evidence when he heard the door to the lab open and shut.

Sherlock stood there, looking much more calm and relaxed than he had before.

"Have you gotten it organized yet?" He asked.

"I would if this idiot would just listen to me!" Jayden said, pointing to Anderson.

Anderson rolled his eyes then fired back an answer.

A screaming match began, and insults were flying.

Sherlock walked over next to Lestrade.

"Has this been going on the entire time I've been gone?" He asked.

"Yeah, but it's not been quite this intense." Lestrade said, watching the fight. "I tried, but I couldn't get them to stop. Any ideas?"

"One." Sherlock muttered.

As Sherlock walked closer to them, Jayden got up in Anderson's face, still yelling at him, and pointing. Sherlock saw Anderson's fist tighten, and then start to move.

Having no time to think, Sherlock stepped in front of Jayden, shielding him from the punch.

The punch had been aimed for Jayden's jaw, but Jayden was significantly shorter than Sherlock.

Anderson had a surprisingly strong punch when he was angry, and it managed to knock the breath from Sherlock's lungs and send him stumbling back into a table. However, Anderson had not formed a proper fist, thus bruising his fingers.

"Sherlock!" Jayden said, rushing towards his brother, and helping him up.

Anderson's eyes widened as he realized what he had just done.

Sherlock coughed, then took several deep breaths.

"Are you done fighting now?" Sherlock asked. "Actually never mind, forget I asked. You _are_ both done."

* * *

Jayden and Anderson both stared at their feet.

 _Deep breaths, deep breaths, don't cough again._ Sherlock thought.

 _Finish talking._

 _You need to- DON'T COUGH- resolve this issue._

 _Preferably before they start trying to kill each other again._

"So the problem is, you disagree on how to sort the evidence?"

Both Jayden and Anderson nodded.

Sherlock looked down at the stacks of evidence, moving them in his mind, arranging them, trying to figure out the best way to organize them.

He kept shifting them in his mind until it made sense.

* * *

Sherlock's eyes flicked between the bags of evidence in front of him.

After a moment they stopped, and Sherlock went about arranging them. He went about it a very different way than Anderson and Jayden had, as spreaded them out across the floor, none of the piles bigger than about 3 bags.

He finished surprisingly quickly, and Anderson and Jayden stared at the bags, trying to figure out what the similarities were between piles. They could find nothing.

Lestrade sensed their confusion, and voiced what they were all wondering.

"So... how did you sort it?"

"Chronological order." Sherlock muttered.

"Chronological- How can you tell what order things happened in?" Anderson asked.

"Just trust me on this one." Sherlock said, "I can't explain it."

* * *

 **A/N: Hope you liked this chapter! I hid a little quote from the actual show in this chapter, so good job to everyone who recognized it. If you didn't see it however, I'll give you a hint. Molly said it in this chapter, but a different character said it on the show! Anyway, reviews!**


	23. Umbrella

_Think. Think. Think._

 _What's going to be different between the actual evidence, and the evidence that has been planted?_

 _How can I tell the difference...?_

Sherlock held up two bags in front of his face, his gaze shifting from one to the other.

 _Evidence... that was put there purposely... it would be more obvious._

 _Draw attention away from the accidental..._

Sherlock pulled out the most obvious pieces of evidence.

 _Wait, whoever did this was smart, seemed to know how I work..._

 _What if it's the minuscule evidence that was left on purpose?_

 _What if it's a double bluff?_

 _But if they're so smart, why did they make the mistakes they did and leave the more obvious things?_

 _What if they planted both the obvious and the unobvious just to make me second guess myself?_

Sherlock started to put the evidence back in their places, but the paused, his hand hovering over one of the bags.

* * *

"No."

Lestrade glanced at Sherlock.

"What?" Jayden asked. "We're just eating."

Sherlock glanced up at them momentarily, just long enough to see that they were chowing down on pizza. Sherlock looked back down to his work, and responded.

"Ignore me, I was talking to myself."

"Yeah, about that, don't you think it's about time for you to take a quick break?" Lestrade asked. "It's past noon now."

"Not yet," Sherlock muttered, "I think I'm close to finding something."

* * *

 _No._

 _Go with original assumption._

 _There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact..._

 _Whoever masterminded this operation was counting on me doubting myself, so my first instinct must be right._

A voice broke through Sherlock's thoughts.

 _Go away. Go away. Go away._

Sherlock quickly dispelled any attempts at conversation.

 _I'm close, so close..._

 _Come on..._

Sherlock pressed his fingers to his head, going deep into the realms of his mind.

He walked down several corridors before finally getting to the room he called his filming room. The filming room was the room that would allow him to imagine how the kidnapping had occurred, despite not being there.

 _Less evidence..._

 _Minimize evidence..._

Sherlock ran scenario after scenario after scenario.

* * *

John snuck past the cameras quietly as he could, as to not set off the noise detectors. He quickly removed their batteries once he was behind them.

 _I can do this, almost there. Just a little farther._

John stopped away back from the door, and saw that there were more than enough security measures preventing him from exiting. He quickly disposed of the cameras, and located the pressure pads. The only issue was the light sensors.

 _I've made it this far, I'm not going back now._ John thought. _Think. Think. Think. Oh gosh, I'm thinking like Sherlock now. Having mental dialogue... Actually, that might just be helpful. Not the mental dialogue, but the- Gosh, is it always so chaotic in Sherlock's mind?_

 _No, back on track, stay focused._

 _What would Sherlock do?_

John glanced around the room, looking for any other exit. He saw none suitable.

 _Alright, the light sensors obviously work using light._

 _When the beam is disrupted, the alarm goes off._

 _So all I have to do is redirect the beam._

John looked at the wall and smiled.

 _Mirrors._

John soon had the mirrors arranged to where he could step around the light beam, instead of onto it.

John slipped out the door, only to run straight into someone.

Mycroft.

* * *

 _How did he get past the pressure pads? And the cameras? And the light sensor?_ Mycroft thought.

 _Why wasn't I notified that he was trying to escape?_

* * *

"I hope you've enjoyed your second of freedom, Dr. Watson," Mycroft said. "because you're not getting another one until the prank has ended. Back inside."

 _I was so close..._

 _Wait- no. I'm not giving up._

"This is getting out of hand, Mycroft." John said. "It's not funny anymore. It's cruel, actually."

"Hm." Mycroft hummed.

"I'm going back." John said.

John walked past Mycroft, but paused in the door way when he was spoken to again.

"I don't think you are, actually." Mycroft passively, though John sensed a challenge.

"I was a soldier." John said.

"I'm sure you were a great one, but I'm not sure fists will be of much use against a gun." Mycroft said. "You're welcome to try though."

John glanced around the room, using only his eyes, but saw nothing. Just as he turned his glance back to Mycroft, there was a little _wisp_ like sound, and a dart embedded itself into John's arm.

Immediately, his vision started to darken.

"Good night, Dr. Watson."

John had only one thought before he drifted into unconsciousness.

 _Did that come from Mycroft's umbrella?_

* * *

Lestrade heard a thump, and looked up to see that Sherlock had unexpectedly stood up after hours of sitting in the same position, hardly moving.

"I need to test a theory," he said, "I'm going to the flat, I'll be back in a bit. Where's Jayden?"

"He went with Anderson to ask Molly's opinion on something they found in the evidence." Lestrade said. "They should be back in a bit."

"Can Jayden stay with you?" Sherlock asked.

"'Course." Lestrade nodded. "What should we do while you're gone?"

Sherlock bit his lip.

"There's a woman, Mrs. Turner," Sherlock said. "She lives next door to us, and might have seen the kidnapping. Call her down to the station and interrogate her. She rents out the flat above her own, so you'll want to speak with the residents there as well. Let Jayden watch, he might enjoy it. You could even show him the ropes, if you were bored enough."

Lestrade shot him a thumbs up.

* * *

Sherlock walked down the street, having decided he would rather walk than take a cab.

As he walked, he found himself breathing in and out deeply, trying to relax himself. So much was happening so fast, that even Sherlock's mind was having trouble keeping up.

He walked up the stairs to the flat, inserting his key into the door. He walked in, and placed himself in the center of the room.

 _Go over it again, minimize evidence..._

 _See what would still be there depending on the different methods of abduction._

Sherlock tested out hundreds of different possible solutions in his mind over the course of a couple hours.

Eventually, he found the only theory that fit every fact. But it didn't make any sense at all.

"If you eliminate the impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." Sherlock muttered to himself.

 _John left the house under his own accord._

 _He left willingly._

* * *

 **A/N: Well, looks like Sherlock's on his way to figuring it out then. Hmm... I wonder how he'll react? But what if he doesn't figure out all of what's going on? What if he figures out a part, then completely misinterprets its significance? And what's the deal with Mycroft's umbrella? Reviews please!**


	24. Call Sherlock

_If John left willingly..._ Sherlock thought, _Then he must have known the kidnappers!_

 _But then why would they- It doesn't make any sense... If that were the case then all of the evidence left would be fake._

 _So why would they leave evidence at all?_

"Stop, stop, doesn't matter." Sherlock said to himself.

 _Who does John trust enough to go with willingly and without asking excessive questions?_

"Me, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Molly... anyone else?" Sherlock muttered.

* * *

 _I- I have to do this. If I want to find John alive, I have to ask for help._

 _Too close to the case..._

 _Can't think straight..._

Sherlock swallowed his pride, and pressed the dial button.

 _"Hello? Is that you Sherlock?"_

"Mycroft." Sherlock said. "I assume you've heard?"

 _"Of course I have."_ Mycroft said. " _Are you finally going to admit that you're out of your depth?"_

Sherlock closed his eyes, trying to repress the anger and irritation that bubbled inside of him.

Mycroft just _had_ to phrase it that way, didn't he?

"I-" Sherlock hesitated. "I'm not out of my depth."

 _"Why did you call then?"_

"Because while I may not be out of my depth, I seem to have a biased view on the case."

 _"Let me get this straight, you want my opinion?"_

"Yes, alright?" Sherlock said. "Is that what you're wanting? Me to admit that I need help?"

 _"Close,"_ Mycroft said.

"Fine. I am too... _emotionally_ invested in this case to have a clear view." Sherlock said. "Good enough?"

 _"Ah, yes, the evils of sentiment."_ Mycroft sighed. " _Didn't I warn you about that, brothermine? Haven't I always told you that caring is not an advantage?"_

"Yes, well-" Sherlock said," It's not exactly a choice either."

It was through his mind and out of his mouth in a split second. It was one of the few times Sherlock Holmes had spoken on impulse.

 _"Alright then. Now that the truth has come out,"_ Mycroft said. " _I've been keeping an eye on the case, but I don't know much more than you do. I must admit, it is... strange... However, you might want to take a better look at the piece of cloth you found on the stair way."_

Sherlock immediately hung up, not wanting to hear anymore of his brother's smug voice than he had to.

"Piece of cloth..." he muttered.

* * *

"Where's Sherlock?"

"Back at Baker St." Lestrade said. "He said he needed to test a theory."

Jayden frowned.

"When will he be back?"

"Not sure, but he told me to question your neighbors." Lestrade said. "Any chance you'd like to watch?"

Jayden nodded, albeit hesitantly, distantly even.

"Alright, what's with the look?" Lestrade asked.

"Huh?" Jayden asked, confused.

"The 'I'm thinking something important, but I'm not going to say it until you ask me' look."

Jayden's eyebrows came together, one raising slightly.

Lestrade rolled his eyes.

"I do observe sometimes, I'm not stupid you know."

"Never said you were." Jayden answered.

Lestrade sighed then put a hand on Jayden's shoulder and physically pulled him from the doorway he was trying to sneak out during the lull in the conversation. He stared until Jayden started talking.

"How do you know he's not lying?" Jayden asked. "How do you know he's not off somewhere with a lead he didn't want us to help him with for one reason or another?"

"Because I know Sherlock, and Sherlock knows his limits despite the amount he tends to ignore them." Lestrade said. "To be honest, he needs a little time alone right now."

"Why?"

"I think he's having a hard time processing what has happened." Lestrade answered. "John's been kidnapped, and... we don't have many _reliable_ leads. Most of the evidence looks as though it has been planted. Your brother, he's a great detective, but I think this one has him stumped. He'll figure it out though."

Jayden examined Lestrade's expression, carefully noting his set mouth and strong gaze.

"You're absolutely convinced he will." Jayden said, still analyzing, his eyes never wavering.

"I am." Lestrade said, breaking the eye contact.

"Why?"

"Because. Sherlock won't rest until he does."

* * *

"Evidence room. Evidence." Sherlock muttered to himself as he walked down the hallways of Bart's Hospital, which was where all the evidence was currently being housed under constant guard.

Sherlock momentarily wondered when he had started to think of Bart's lab as an evidence room, but he quickly dismissed the thought, determining that it didn't matter at the moment.

 _Evidence. Evidence. Need to find the cloth..._

Sherlock brushed a drop of sweat from his brow.

He slipped through the door and into the lab. He went about the piles of evidence, digging through them frantically.

 _Where is it?! It's got to be here!_

Sherlock pressed his fingertips to his head, and worked to recall the location of that piece of evidence.

 _Left uh- lower left- under stack of... 3? No, 4. Only pile with 4 bags._

Sherlock scanned the area for the pile he had seen. He grabbed the bag, opening it. As he pulled the cloth out, he noticed his shaking hands.

 _What's happening? Why is it so hard to think? Uh... diagnostics. Need to run diagnostics again._

 _Pulse: Elevated, well above normal._

 _Respiratory System: Uneven, quick breaths. Shallow. Shortness of breath._

 _Blood Pressure: Normal. I usually have low blood pressure, having normal means there must have been a spike..._

Sherlock pressed his hands to his head.

 _No, stop, doesn't matter. I... I have access to the cloth. I can... I can deduce it now._

After a few deep breaths his hands stopped shaking as much, and his pulse became relatively normal. Sherlock began to inspect the cloth, his calculating blue eyes slowly gliding over it.

It had been caught in the stairway on the lowest portion of the railing and considering the material, the most logical conclusion was that it had been torn from the bottom of a pair of trousers. But why had it been caught?

 _The trousers were too long. Why were they too long?_

Sherlock noted the wear on the material. Could be a hand-me-down then, but it looks relatively new despite the fact that it is worn. The man was hard on his clothing. Considering the facts, it is more likely he was used to moving around a lot, likely outdoors, taking into consideration the fading of the material.

 _Outdoors... Boots. That's why his trousers were too long. They were meant for boots, he must have been wearing shoes. The trousers would have gotten caught in the stairway when he was walking... up? Yes, definitely up._ _They were on the wrong side of the railing for him to have been going down..._

 _Irrelevant! Stick to the relevant facts._

Sherlock noticed a waxy substance on the cloth that was dark in color. Running a finger over the area, he came up with several ideas as to what the substance might be, but only one idea was likely. Still, he wanted to make sure. His hypothesis rang true. After one sniff, Sherlock determined that the substance was indeed shoe polish.

 _The polish isn't old, the stain dates back to a few hours before John-_ There was a break in Sherlock's thoughts, and he corrected himself. _-T_ _he victim\- a few hours before the victim was abducted. He must have been late to a meeting or something and polished the shoes while wearing them. So he polished them while he was on his way to the meeting, which means either a friend, family, or a colleague was driving him, or he took a cab._

"Alright... Good... Good..." Sherlock mumbled to himself.

 _Now organize and_ _categorize._

 ** _About the person:_**

 _\- Often works outdoors or in rough surroundings._

 _\- Usually wears boots_

Sherlock paused. All the rest he knew was circumstantial.

"I need more." Sherlock muttered. "Think. Think. Think..."

 _Quality of the shoe polish well exceeds the quality of the trousers, so likely a gift, possibly from family, but more likely from a coworker or boss. Family would be more inclined to give something of a sentimental nature. So he got it from a coworker or boss. Given the quality of his job, which is probably good, but not top notch, it's more likely his boss._

Sherlock drummed his fingers on the table in front of him.

 _So to recap..._

 ** _Kidnapper with ripped trousers:_**

 _\- Often works outdoors or in rough surroundings_

 _\- Usually wears boots_

 _\- Late for meeting of some sort with high profile boss_

 _\- Likely freelance, but has worked several times for the same person_

 _\- Good at his job_

 _\- Used high quality shoe polish to polish his shoes on the way to meeting_

 _\- Likely used a brush to polish the shoes (More likely to get polish on trousers that way)_

 ** _Conclusion:_** _Not much useful information without analyzing the shoe polish, therefore,_

 ** _To Do List:_**

 _\- Analyze shoe polish_

 _\- Look for particulates on cloth_

* * *

 _Ugh._

John Watson blearily opened his eyes, blinking rapidly against the sharp white light. He was tightly bound to a chair he noticed, not tightly enough that it seemed his captor wanted to cause him pain, but tightly enough that he had no chance of escape. Glancing around, John noticed Mycroft standing in the far corner of the room.

"Ah, Dr. Watson." Mycroft said. "Welcome back to the land of the living."

In a surge of anger, John pulled against the ropes, intent upon wiping that smug look off of Mycroft's face. And possibly his nose as well.

"Sorry about the whole tied to a chair thing." Mycroft said, "I really didn't want it to come to this." To John's surprise, Mycroft did sound as though he genuinely regretted the thing.

"Then let me go."

"As much as I wish I could, I'm afraid the prank isn't quite over yet." Mycroft said. "I paid a visit to my dear brother this afternoon, the poor man. So stupid as to ask the committer of the crime to help solve it. Pathetic, isn't it?"

"Let. Me. Go." John said, his voice dangerously low.

"Not going to happen."

"Then let me send him a text, an email, a note, just _something_ to show him that I'm still alive!"

Mycroft appeared to consider that a moment, though John could tell he had already premeditated and planned out the entire conversation, likely with pin point accuracy. John knew he had already come up with an answer, perhaps days in advance.

"I took a photo of you while you were out." Mycroft said. "I will send him that."

"Does it make me look dead?"

"No, just unconscious, as you were." Mycroft said.

"...Alright." John mumbled.

"I wasn't asking for your permission."

* * *

Lestrade and Jayden sat listening to Sally question Mrs. Turner.

"She's not going to know anything." Jayden muttered.

"She might have seen them leaving." Lestrade said.

Jayden shook his head.

"If she hasn't remembered anything by now she's not going to unless something triggers her and brings the details back to mind. If she could remember what she had been doing at that point in time, cooking for example, if she smelled what ever she had been cooking at the time some of the information that she subconsciously retained would likely come up."

Jayden sat with his arms crossed, glaring intently at Mrs. Turner through the glass.

Lestrade watched Jayden, noting the subtle squint of his eyes, and the frown of his lips.

"What's the deal with this?" Lestrade asked, referencing the look of frustration on Jayden's face.

"No motive." Jayden said. "If we knew motive, everything would be easier, but we don't. We weren't on a case, and it had been awhile since the last one. What are the kidnappers after?"

Lestrade shrugged. "Maybe we'll get a ransom note?"

Jayden shook his head.

"The Holmes are loaded, but none of them are sentimental enough to pay the ransom." Jayden said.

"Sherlock took a bullet for the man, faked his death too." Lestrade said. "He'd give almost anything for him."

"Maybe," Jayden said, "but I still don't think that's it."

Lestrade's phone beeped, and Jayden glanced toward the noise.

"Text." Lestrade said, by way of explanation. Jayden refocused on Mrs. Turner.

There were a few more beeps as Lestrade brought it up to look at it.

* * *

Jayden heard Lestrade emit a small gasp.

Looking over, he said,

"What?"

Lestrade looked up at him, a slightly wary look in his eyes.

"Our kidnappers made first contact."

They both stared down at the phone.

"Call Sherlock."

* * *

 **A/N: I am so sorry for not updating for as long as I have. I went to a theater camp thing that took up most of my time for awhile, and then I started composing a song on my violin. So basically, I put this chapter together in pieces, so I hope it was good.**


	25. Leave the Light On

Sherlock's phone rang, but he didn't hear it, being too focused on the particulates under his microscope.

* * *

"He's not answering." Lestrade said, letting the phone down from his ear and pressing the end call button.

"Try again then." Jayden answered. "He's bound to hear eventually."

Lestrade nodded and tried again, putting it on speaker phone. Jayden paced as the phone rang, getting faster and faster the more frustrated he got.

The ringing stopped and a low voice came over the line.

 _"Lestrade?"_

"Yeah it's me, listen-" Lestrade started, but Sherlock cut him off.

 _"Jayden's with you?"_

"Yeah, now-" Again Lestrade was interrupted.

 _"Did Mrs. Turner know any-"_

"Will you just shut up for a moment!?" Lestrade's voice rose uncharacteristically, instantly quieting Sherlock. Lestrade sighed. "Did you get it?"

 _"Did I get what?"_ Sherlock asked.

Lestrade growled in frustration.

"Give me a second, I'll send it to you." he said. "And don't you dare hang up on me."

 _"Why? What's going on?"_

"You'll see. Just wait a moment, will you?"

Lestrade messed with his phone, struggling to send the video.

"Never learned this in training." He muttered.

Watching Lestrade's irritation increase, Jayden held out his hand.

"Give it to me." he said.

Lestrade glanced over at him, then gave him the phone. With in a few seconds, the video was sent.

 _"I got it."_ Sherlock said.

Lestrade heard an small intake of air as Sherlock opened the message. Not missing a beat, Lestrade took the phone off speaker phone and held it up to his ear. He gestured for Jayden to leave the room. Jayden frowned, but nodded, doing as he was told.

"You alright?" Lestrade asked.

* * *

Sherlock stared at the picture on his phone.

It depicted John, tied to a chair, his head drooping towards his chest. He was blindfolded and gagged, though Sherlock suspected that even if he did try to speak, it wouldn't have made much sense. Blood dripped from a head wound, marring the surface just below the hair line. Though Sherlock knew head wounds were always messy, he was still inclined to believe that one of this severity couldn't not cause a concussion. Blood laced John's shoulder, the same one that had been shot in Afghanistan, and bruises mottled his entire body. It would take John weeks to recover, possibly months. That's if he wasn't already gone.

 _Not just a picture._ Sherlock's frayed mind managed to process. _A video._

He pressed play, half way hoping it would give him some sort of a lead.

Sherlock's shoulders sagged as John Watson's chest heaved up and down, breaths audibly strained.

 _He's alive._ The knowledge alone gave Sherlock great relief, but as the video implanted itself in his mind, another fact became obvious. _He might not be for long._

Something caught in his chest, and it felt as though pressure were building up.

 _He's still in there. He's still being hurt and- We have to get him out._

* * *

Lestrade waited anxiously for Sherlock to answer him, but all was silent.

"Sherlock? You still there?" he asked, for what felt like the hundredth time, but was actually only the third.

After a moment, Lestrade heard a short cough, then a deep voice came across the line.

"Yes." The Consulting Detective's voice sounded detached, disturbingly so.

"You alright?" Lestrade asked.

"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" Sherlock snapped, finally showing some emotion, be it irritation.

Lestrade frowned. While Sherlock seemed to be responding normally, he couldn't help but notice the lack of conviction behind Sherlock's verbal bullets.

"Sherlock,"Lestrade said gently,

* * *

"I'm fine, alright? Or-" Sherlock breathed out, trying to dispel the growing tension inside of him. "Or I will be. Just don't worry about it. I'll have Mycroft try to track the mobile the text was sent from, and we'll have the location of the kidnappers when the sent the text, then I'll analyze the video, see if I can gather anything about their location, then I- I-"

Sherlock's mind ran blank, going back into the inward state of panic he had been in before. The sensation of being torn apart from the inside out was jarred into his mind and wrenched into his body. Pain and fear seemed to radiate from his very core. His breaths came out in small gasps, and his grip on the phone tightened.

"Sherlock, Sherlock, calm down. It's going to be alright." Lestrade said. "Where are you?"

"Bart's." Sherlock said. There was a slight tremor in his voice, but it was enough.

"Alright, stay where you are. I'm coming to get you. We'll work things out from there, alright?"

* * *

"Okay..."

Sherlock's immediate agreement concerned Lestrade, as it showed just how muddled and clouded his mind was.

"Alright." Lestrade said. "I'll be there soon."

Lestrade pressed the end call button, and walked out of the room. He looked to the left, where Jayden leaning against the wall, surfing the web on his phone.

"Come on." Lestrade grabbed Jayden's shoulder and pulled him down the hallway.

"Where we going?" Jayden asked.

"Bart's." Lestrade said.

The car drive was a tense, silent one.

Lestrade growled at the traffic, and resisted the urge to turn on his siren and lights just to clear the way.

 _You never could convince me of that sociopath bit._ Lestrade thought. _You better be alright, you idiot._

Lestrade and Jayden got out of the car and walked into Bart's.

"Morgue or lab?" Jayden asked.

"He's in the lab," Lestrade answered.

Jayden started walking towards the lab, but Lestrade grabbed his shoulders and swung him around to a different direction.

"But you're going to go visit Molly." Lestrade said.

"Why?" Jayden frowned.

"Just go."

"No. Tell me why." Jayden said.

"Because your brother is a proud man, and he hates being seen like this." Lestrade hissed.

"And what exactly is 'like this'?"

"He'll show you when he wants to." Lestrade said. "Now go."

Jayden stalked off, heading towards the morgue.

* * *

Lestrade slipped into the lab, closing the door quietly behind him. It wasn't hard to locate Sherlock, who was sitting against the wall with his knees bent up towards his chest, elbows resting on top of them, and his face in his palms.

It was dark, all but one light had been turned out. Sherlock's gaze flickered up towards Lestrade.

"Sherlock?"

"I've fixed it, Lestrade. Don't worry." Sherlock said, his voice strangely empty. "It won't happen again."

"There's nothing wrong with being upset." Lestrade said. "You're allowed to be worried. He's your best friend."

"There's where you're wrong." Sherlock said. "Currently, he has the status of victim. When he is back, he will regain the status of 'friend'. But for now, he is of no more significance than anyone else."

"Sherlock..."

"You know what I can do." Sherlock's head shot up, his piercing blue eyes giving Lestrade a look sharper than ice. "I can't turn it off, that's true. But you know better than anyone else that I can _change_ it when I need to."

"I know you can do it." Lestrade's voice was resigned, and for once you could tell his words were well thought out. "But I don't like what it turns you into. It scares me actually."

"Why?" The word, though formed as a question, was more akin to an accusation. More clearly described, it felt like the cold metal of a dagger resting against your throat.

All words died on the inspector's tongue, and for a brief moment he just stood there. Finally, he managed to utter,

"I don't know." He said. "I don't have a good reason." Lestrade sighed and shifted his weight to a more comfortable position, rapidly adapting to Sherlock's not new- but _regressed_ attitude. "I know I can't stop you from doing anything. I know that nothing I say will change your mind once you have it made up. But just hear me out, alright?"

After a moment's hesitation, Sherlock's head dipped in a slight nod, signaling his willingness.

"I don't know what you're going through," Lestrade began, "I can't read your mind, and I don't know what to do. But I'm doing the best I can to help, and no amount of insults, dismissals, or otherwise verbal attacks are going to stop me. I don't know how your mind works. This might just be your method of coping, and that's alright. But if you choose to do that, if you choose to lock your emotions in that room, that cellar, could you do me a favor?"

Sherlock paused, not having expected this turn in the conversation. Again, his head lowered, but this time, it did not raise again.

"Leave the lights on." Lestrade said.

Lestrade sensed some confusion in the air as the consulting detective looked up, returning his gaze.

"Sherlock," Lestrade said, "Make sure you don't delete the key to that room. Because when you do that... thing, you don't just change _it,_ you change _you._ "

* * *

After a moment's consideration, Sherlock spoke.

"Okay."

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, so the reason I was so slow for this update is because I've actually written a lot more, and I realized that I needed to split it up between chapters. So, here you go, I hope you like it. Please tell me what you think, I'd love to know if there's anything I can improve. Oh, and just in case I wasn't clear enough (I think I was, but just in case,) the "** _it_ **" referenced by Lestrade and Sherlock was the way Sherlock processes emotions, as well as the emotions themselves.**


	26. Of the Deleted

Molly heard the door of the morgue open, then shut. She looked over to see Jayden stalking towards her. She examined him a moment, just as she would any of the bodies that came into her possession.

Somehow, in that small, sad smile, she portrayed in a moment everything that needed to be said.

 _I know you're upset._

"Want to help?" She offered, gesturing down to the body on the table that she had prepped for autopsy.

"Is that even legal?" Jayden mumbled.

"Probably not. But it's a bullet wound to the head, so pretty straight forward." She said. "No one will know you helped if you don't tell them."

Jayden nodded, "Alright."

He accepted the latex gloves that Molly handed to him, and going up towards the body's head, he examined the wound. He frowned, then moved to examine the hands.

"Powder burns. Angles. Distance..." He mumbled. "Self-inflicted?"

Molly nodded sadly, "A pity, isn't it?" Molly said. "The file said he left behind a wife and two kids..."

Jayden hummed in agreement. He continued inspecting the body.

His eyes narrowed.

"What's wrong with the shoulder?" he asked.

Molly glanced over.

"Just some bruising." she answered. "He was a construction worker."

"That explains his build." Jayden nodded.

They worked for awhile, Molly occasionally giving Jayden instructions.

"Why do you have to do an autopsy on a man who died by suicide?" Jayden asked.

"I have to do autopsies on all deaths that are regarded as suspicious." Molly said. "Just to be positive it's not murder."

After recording the characteristics of the body, as well as noting the size, type, and location of various bruises and cuts present, Jayden helped Molly prep for the first incision.

Smiling slyly, Molly gently set a scalpel on Jayden's hand.

Jayden looked up at her like she was insane.

"No way." Jayden said. "I'll mess up."

"You have steady hands, I've seen you." Molly said. "Besides, there's not a lot to mess up. The only thing we'll be doing is checking the stomach, gallbladder, and Pancreas for any signs of poisoning, and they're all protected by the ribs. Unless you're strong enough to cut through bone using a scalpel, there's really no danger. "

Molly, pressed two of her fingers on the body.

"Start here, then go up to here." Molly shifted her fingers to a different location. "After that, make one from here to here, and then here to here."

Jayden carefully proceeded to do as Molly had said.

 _Doesn't take much pressure at all._ Jayden noticed.

"So then," Molly said, "What's wrong?"

Jayden smirked in disbelief, and slight irritation. "Just because I'm not laughing doesn't mean something's wrong."

"Maybe not." Molly said. "But stop trying to fool me, I've been lied to all to much on account of these sort of things."

They continued in silence.

"I just-" Jayden hesitated, "It seems like they won't tell me what's going on. Like they don't trust me enough to know the whole thing."

Molly sighed, a fond smile appearing on her face.

"Join the club." She told him.

"What do you mean?" Jayden asked, his brows furrowing.

"I've known Sherlock for years... Never have managed to make it to his inner circle though." Molly said.

"Boy that's encouraging." Jayden muttered.

It was silent a moment, both of their attentions returning to the body.

"Sherlock loves you," Molly said, suddenly glancing up at Jayden, "He does care. You know that, right?"

"I-" Jayden hesitated, finding he wasn't sure how to respond. Jayden was naturally a quick thinker, but there just sort of seemed to be a mental block, some sort of obstruction in his thoughts.

"He's gotten attached to you more quickly than I've ever seen before." Molly said. "The reason he's keeping you out of the loop is because he's trying to protect you from whatever is happening right now."

"Did he ever once consider that maybe I don't want to be protected?" Jayden said. "That maybe, just maybe, I can take care of myself?"

"He'll get over it Jayden, he always has. He tried it with Lestrade, with John, but you know how they are now. I suppose you just have to tell him that you're not willing to be left in the dark."

"I would do it right now if he wasn't so... so..." Jayden struggled to find the right word.

Molly smiled sympathetically and looked back down to her work.

"There's a lot of words that could fit into that slot." she said. "Believe me, I know. But the thing is, he's just trying to show that he cares in the only way he knows how. By protecting you."

They continued working for awhile before Molly spoke again.

"Sherlock, he's seen more death, more loss than you could possibly imagine. John too, and Lestrade, I imagine." Molly said. "That uh- that eventually gets to a person, I would think. It makes sense that they would be overprotective."

"What about you?" Jayden said. "You're a pathologist, you work in a morgue. You see dead people everyday."

"Ah, but that's different."

"How?" Jayden asked.

"Because they're already dead when they get here."

They worked in silence awhile longer, first sawing through bones, then weighing organs, and taking samples to send to the lab.

"I originally wanted to be a surgeon." Molly said. "Do you know what changed my mind?"

Jayden shook his head.

"I came down here because a mistake on my part can't hurt anyone, because they're already dead." Molly said. "Your brother, he's a brave man. He's willing to take the risks necessary to save lives, no matter how much danger he puts himself in. The problem comes when while he's not afraid of harm coming to himself. That's when people start targeting his loved ones."

"What was Lestrade talking about when he said that Sherlock hated to be seen like ' _this'_?" Jayden asked.

"Upset probably." Molly said. "Scared. His emotions taking control."

Jayden raised an eyebrow.

"It does happen sometimes," Molly said, "Not often, but sometimes."

"But why can't I help him?"

"Lestrade has always had a special bond with Sherlock." Molly said. "He helped get him straightened out, and kept him alive before John came along."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Sherlock is hesitant to show people what he's feeling." Molly said. "Especially with people he feels the need to protect, to be strong for. If you came with Lestrade, then Sherlock would be more likely to clam up."

"Doesn't make much sense." Jayden muttered.

"You're right, it doesn't." Molly agreed. "But it's not our job to change him. We've just got to love and care for him the way he is. He'll come around eventually."

* * *

Sherlock stared at his phone silently as they walked towards the morgue, but his mind was alive, and buzzing with questions and ideas.

 _Focus. Alright. Where could the victim be? What's in the background? What do I hear, what do I see?_

He watched the video again.

"Train, low rumble... air conditioner?" He muttered. "Rain... a little rain pattering on the... tin roof... Thunder too. Not a lot."

 _Where has there been a storm near a tin roofed building by train tracks?_

Sherlock pulled up the weather for the area. For whatever reason, he somehow knew that the kidnapper hadn't taken John far.

A scene struck itself up in Sherlock's mind.

 _Arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him tight. There was noise, screaming, in the background. There was the sound of shattering glass, and the arms held tighter. The smell of fear filled the room, and it was a moment before Sherlock saw the face connected to the arms that were embracing him. It was blurred in the low light of the room, but one thing was clear. This face was trying to calm him down. It was trying to protect him._

Sherlock stopped in his tracks.

 _It loved him._

Someone had loved him, and he had deleted it.

* * *

Lestrade was caught off guard when Sherlock just stopped walking for seemingly no reason.

"Did you find something?"

* * *

 **A/N: Here's another chapter, not as long as I'd like, but hey, at least it didn't take me forever this time. Anyway, I hope you liked it. I'd love to hear what you think.**


	27. This Isn't a Request

_I deleted it! Why would I delete it!?_

 _Come back! Come back! Come back!_

 _I need to know who that was!_

Sherlock's mind was screaming for answers that only it could provide. If he could remember.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock felt a hand on his shoulder, and his concentration broke.

 _Not important._ _Deal with that later._

 _John- I mean, the man, is still missing._

 _Focus._

Sherlock was going to say something, but tried to early, and due to his still being partially in his mind, only a "Hm?" came out.

"Are you alright?" Lestrade asked. "You just stopped walking. Did you figure something out?"

With some difficulty Sherlock dispelled the distraction in his mind. He shook his head to get rid of the remains of it.

"No, not yet." Sherlock said. "Sorry."

* * *

Lestrade stared hard at Sherlock who had by now started to walk again, still staring down at his phone, his thumbs pecking at it as he looked up various things that Lestrade could find no connection between.

 _He never apologizes._

"No," He said, "something's distracting you, I can tell."

"Nothing that can't wait until later." Sherlock said, not looking up from the article he was reading.

Lestrade watched him. It was really quite amazing how quickly he could read, his eyes just scanning line after line, never looking back to make sure he read the thing correctly. He seemed to absorb the words rather than just read them. Lestrade could almost hear the gears spinning in his head.

"So... What do we do then?" Lestrade asked.

Sherlock pulled out his phone and watched the video again.

* * *

 _Building with metal roof near train tracks is all I've got so far. I need more._

 _What can I see?_

 _I see... Dust on the floor. Wooden floor, old, worn. Walked on a lot. The chair is old, wooden seat and back. Not very comfortable. Flash of lightning... there must be windows somewhere._

 _What do I hear?_

Sherlock closed his eyes.

 _Thunder, fluorescent lights, rain on metal roof, a clang._

 _What is the clang?_

 _Metal hitting metal..._

 _Not small pieces, large._

 _Then a sort of scraping sound._

 _I've heard it before, but I can't remember where._

 _Think. Think. Think._

Sherlock was pulled out of his thoughts by a hand on his arm.

"Sherlock,"

Sherlock glanced up at Lestrade.

"as you know, we probably don't have a lot of time." Lestrade said gently.

 _Tell me about it._ Sherlock thought.

"You've been a detective for awhile now. You're not a newbie anymore, you've solved more than enough crimes to know what you're doing." Lestrade said. "There's nothing wrong with going on your gut once in awhile. We're sort of running on nothing right now."

"But..." Sherlock hesitated.

"Sherlock, you've got to put a pause on _this,"_ Lestrade pointed to Sherlock's head, "And just for a moment, pay a little attention to _this._ " Lestrade pointed to Sherlock's chest.

"We're running on nothing right now. We have no useful evidence, or at least if we do, you haven't told me, and we have no leads. Anything you can get, whether you can trace the source of it or not, will be helpful." Lestrade said. "We could at least get a starting point."

Lestrade tapped the phone in Sherlock's hand, restarting the video.

"Remember." Lestrade said. "Talk it out, let me know what you're thinking. And at least try to speak in English, could you? I'd prefer not to be _entirely_ lost."

After a moment, Sherlock managed to convince himself to voice his guesses.

"We're looking for a building, a very large one, metal roof, part of the floor is wood, but a most is concrete. It's near train tracks, in fact, it's next to them." Sherlock said. "There's... there's a lot of metal there, in the room beside them. Two doors, one closed, one open. Windows... there are windows, two maybe? Two windows on the wall to the right of them. We can't see them, but they're there. You can see the light from the lightening coming through them."

"Alright." Lestrade said. "Now, what are we looking for?"

 _Very large building + concrete floors + lots of metal things + clanging noise + scraping noise + next to train tracks = What?_

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, searching his mind for all places that fit that criteria.

"It's... It's..." Sherlock looked up at Lestrade. "We're looking for train repair depot."

"Well that should make it easy." Lestrade said. "An abandoned train repair depot."

Sherlock shook his head. "Not abandoned." Sherlock said.

"Alright then... working train repair depot..." Lestrade sighed. "That makes it a little harder. Any parameters to work with?"

"All depots within 100 miles that were closed due to either unlisted or suspicious reasons." Sherlock said. "Eliminate the largest ones."

Lestrade and Sherlock walked into the morgue, and Molly and Jayden both glanced up at them.

"Sorry for the delay." Sherlock said. "I need your help Jayden."

"With what?" Jayden asked.

"You're good with computers." Sherlock said, more as a statement than a question.

"Yeah, so?"

Sherlock glanced up at Lestrade.

"If we don't find the spot by morning I'll get him onto a computer." Lestrade confirmed.

"Morning?" Sherlock asked, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

"You're both going to rest for a few hours." Lestrade said. "Jayden and I have been catching naps where we can and snacking as we work, but uh- you've got to get some sleep. Getting a little food into you wouldn't hurt either."

Molly took a few steps closer to Sherlock, brushing the hair out of his face, noticing the gleam of sweat on his forehead. Her hand slid down, gently caressing his cheek in concern. Sherlock hadn't responded to the action, and while he didn't seem to be pleased by it, he didn't seem to be displeased either. After a moment, he slowly pulled her hand from his face.

"He's right, you don't look well, Sherlock." Molly said, taking his wrist. He tugged it away once he realized she was taking his pulse.

* * *

 _I've got to convince him he needs to take care of himself._ Molly thought.

 _How?_

 _He's only going to listen to me if I've got facts._

 _Alright..._

Molly quickly scanned Sherlock for physical ailments.

* * *

"Your heart rate is quick, and I'm going to guess your blood sugar is getting quite low. You've lost at least 2 pounds since all this began, and that was only 4 days ago. You're also getting dehydrated, which is probably what is causing your headache." Molly said factually.

 _Headache?_ Sherlock thought, as he used his mind palace to flip his pain sensors back on.

 _What head-? oh._

 _Ow._

Sherlock became aware of a throbbing in his head, which shifted to a sharp pain every time he turned his head. Disliking the sensation, he turned the pain receptors back off.

"I-" Sherlock was cut off by Lestrade before he could even begin the next word.

"Sherlock, this isn't a request." Lestrade's voice was firm and uncompromising. He glanced over at Jayden. "Come on."

* * *

 **A/N: Well there's the next chapter. It was a tad boring I'll admit, but I'm setting you up for a more interesting one, so hold on to your seats and try not to get too impatient with me! ;)**


	28. It Hurts

Sherlock, Jayden, and Lestrade walked into the flat after picking up some clothes from 221B.

"Why don't one of you take a shower?" Lestrade said. "You'll sleep better, and I'll dare say it's probably been awhile."

"Me first!" Jayden raced to the bathroom, and with in a few seconds, Sherlock and Lestrade heard the water come on.

"I guess I'll get started on some food then." Lestrade said, an amused smile on his face. He pulled a box of macaroni and cheese from the cabinet, and a few pans. He took some hamburger from the fridge, and began to fry it up.

After awhile Lestrade noticed Sherlock growing quite restless, the speed of his fingers tapping the table quickly increasing. Sherlock had one hand placed on his forehead, elbow on the table. His other hand, the one with tapping fingers, was placed beside his elbow. Sherlock stared down at the table, his eyes scanning the patterns in the wood.

"You alright, Sherlock?" Lestrade asked as he walked over, the concern clear in his eyes. Sherlock's head shot up, and he quickly shifted to what appeared to be a more attentive position, now having both elbows up on the table, his hands in the familiar thinking pose.

It was then Lestrade got a better view of Sherlock's face, which had gone quite pale.

"Fine, why?" It was obvious that Sherlock had meant to snap, but it hadn't worked. There was a slight tremor to his voice, and he sounded more unsure and hesitant than irritated.

"Don't lie to me." Lestrade warned.

"I-" Sherlock closed his eyes, than blinked a few times, seemingly in an attempt to refocus himself. It was then Lestrade had noticed the slight tremble of Sherlock's hands.

Quickly applying the medical knowledge he had, Lestrade came to a conclusion.

"We've got to get food in you quick." Lestrade said, starting to go through his cabinets. "What do you think you can keep down?"

Sherlock stood up, but swayed almost immediately, staggering against the counter.

"Hey, hey, hey, none of that now." Lestrade said, grabbing his arm to steady him.

Sherlock closed his eyes.

"Dizzy." He mumbled.

"Alright, just sit down then? Why don't you go back to the table?" Lestrade suggested, as he half drug Sherlock back over to the table.

"Try to focus. I'm just getting you something to get your sugar up." Lestrade reached up to his counter and grabbed a glass, quickly searching the fridge for something with high glucose content.

"Sherlock, you still with me?" Lestrade said, glancing away from the fridge that he really should clean out eventually.

"I haven't passed out, if that's what you're asking." Sherlock muttered.

"Just a bit longer." With a small grunt of triumph, Lestrade grabbed a half full carton of grape juice. He quickly poured a glass, and set it in front of Sherlock.

Sherlock stared at it disdainfully, before lifting it and taking a small sip. Lestrade sighed impatiently.

"You're going to need more than that."

Sherlock frowned, then took a larger sip, and Lestrade could see his throat constricting as he swallowed.

"All of it, Sherlock."

Slowly, Sherlock drained the cup. Within five minutes, he was looking considerably more like his usual self, as the tremors had stopped and he seemed to be less disoriented. Even though he had improved, the pallor of his face, and the strain of exhaustion resting upon it never left.

"Better?" Lestrade asked, as he continued cooking his hamburger.

Sherlock nodded, albeit hesitantly. And it was this hesitance that cause Lestrade to come to a realization.

"That shook you up a bit didn't it? Your transport betraying you?" Lestrade asked. "You knew you hadn't been taking care of it though, so I don't know why."

"I knew I was pushing it." Sherlock admitted. "But I- I didn't know I'd let it go this far."

"You've got to be careful." Lestrade said.

"I-I'm trying. It's just- there's so much going on, so many things spinning through my mind, and-" Sherlock stopped speaking quite suddenly.

"Sherlock..." Lestrade said, prompting him to finish the sentence.

"And-" Sherlock said, trying to put words to what he was feeling. "It hurts." A sudden look of fear ran over Sherlock's features, which was almost instantly replaced by stony neutrality.

There was a moment of silence, then Lestrade spoke again.

"Why do you do that?" he said.

"Do what?" Sherlock asked.

"Right after you admit to pain, or vulnerability, you always look... scared, for just a split second after that. Then you clam up." Lestrade said. "Why?

Sherlock hesitated in answering, running his finger around the rim of the cup sitting in front of him.

He shrugged almost imperceptibly, shaking his head slightly as he did.

"You never know who's going to turn on you. You never know who's secretly on the other side. If you show your pain, you are practically asking to be hit in the same spot again, as they have already spotted a weakness in that area. The areas that I do not show are the ones that I feel need protected the most." Sherlock said.

Lestrade absorbed that for a few minutes.

"I understand that, but what's with the sociopath thing? Why are you afraid to show that you care about people?"

"We've got a dangerous job, Lestrade. We've both got enemies, people who would love to hurt us. But over the past few years, I've gained more enemies, powerful enemies, than I know what to do with." Sherlock said. "If I let it be known that I care about someone, I am painting a target on the back of their head. It's risky enough to remain in contact with those I care about, let alone be as close to them as I am. I get any closer," Sherlock said, "And they _will_ die."

* * *

The conversation had long been dropped, and Lestrade heard the shower turn off.

"He'll be out soon." Lestrade commented. Sherlock just nodded in response, going back into his own mind. He had been staring at the wall long enough that Lestrade knew he had gone into his mind palace.

"What are you doing up there?" Lestrade asked, tapping his head as he glanced over at Sherlock.

"Staring at the light." Sherlock answered honestly. "Wishing to turn it off."

Lestrade did a double take. "It better not be the room I think it is." he said, wiping his hands on the dish towel as he set the food on the table.

"We're speaking of the same room." Sherlock answered.

"You need to get away from it, Sherlock." Lestrade said.

"Not that simple." Sherlock said. "I left the door open a crack like you told me to, the room has a vacuum like quality. I have yet to see how it works."

"Just be careful."

It was at that moment that Jayden entered the room, his hair still dripping wet.

He slid into his seat at the table.

"What are we eating?" He asked, completely oblivious to the serious conversations that had recently taken place.

"Macaroni and cheese. I've fried up some hamburger, you can add it if you'd like." Lestrade said.

"Awesome. I didn't know Brits did that too." Jayden said. "You know what it's called if you add taco seasoning too?"

"Nope." Lestrade answered, spooning some onto his own plate.

"It's called Tex-Mex mac and cheese." Jayden said, his mouth already partially filled.

* * *

 **A/N: So there we get another glimpse at a vulnerable, honest moment for Sherlock, as well as insight into just why he is the way he is. I hope you enjoyed it, and I'd love to hear what you think.**


	29. It Doesn't Take a Genius

After finishing his meal, Jayden flopped onto the futon and was asleep almost immediately. Sherlock was still seated at the table.

"Here," Lestrade said, as he tossed a bag of crackers over to Sherlock, who caught them.

"What are these for?" Sherlock asked, looking at the pack in disinterest.

"For you to eat." Lestrade answered, "You're obviously not going to eat the 'tex-mex' as Jayden calls it, so I figured those would be a bit better on your stomach."

Sherlock glanced up at Lestrade with surprise and confusion.

"How-"

Lestrade rolled his eyes.

"It doesn't take a genius to deduce the reason you don't eat much."

Sherlock blinked, staring at Lestrade, who then sighed.

"Listen, you've got a high stress job, fast paced life, your mind works at an almost super human speed and practically eats itself when it has nothing to do, you don't get enough sleep, and going off of what I've picked up on over the years, probably a very... tense family situation." Lestrade explained. "But rarely do you seem to worry about any of it. Everyone feels stress, no one is exempt from it, which means the stress must be affecting you in some other way. You don't eat when you're on a case, but you don't eat when you go too long without a case either. Thus, the only logical conclusion is that stress messes with your digestive system. It makes you sick to your stomach."

Lestrade paused to take a breath, expecting himself to speak again soon after, but found he needed to take a few more.

"Gosh," Lestrade said breathlessly, "How do you do that all in one breath?"

Ignoring the joke, Sherlock just stared at him.

"See, I'm not an idiot." Lestrade said, after regaining his normal rate of breathing.

Sherlock just watched Lestrade, with a sort of fascination that while not all that unusual, was unusual when it was directed at a human being.

"I do _observe_ things sometimes." Lestrade added. "The things that matter most to me." Lestrade shoveled another bite of macaroni and cheese into his mouth.

"Now eat your crackers."

* * *

Sherlock's gaze shifted to the packet of crackers sitting on the table. He slowly took one from the box and held it for a moment, trying to convince himself to eat it. His stomach clenched just smelling it.

In relation to blood, gore, and cadavers, Sherlock had a very strong stomach. He could handle just about anything that was thrown at him. That had never been a problem. Only when he thought of food, did he flinch. For some strange reason, his mind seemed to have associated food with pain. He never had figured it out, but when he ate, it felt almost as though there was a bolt of lightening shooting through him. His entire body chilled, and a stinging pain appeared on his cheek. That was when things were normal, when there was no reason for him not to eat.

When he was under stress, when he had a case demanding his attention, or when his mind was tearing itself apart, his stomach always clenched at even the _thought_ of food. There was already too much that he was processing. The only sense that he didn't have in use was taste, and for that reason, it was taste that kept him sane. The sense of taste had always bothered him, and for that reason he preferred bland foods. He despised anything too sweet or too sour. Salty, while still not pleasurable, wasn't quite as bad.

 _I need this._ Sherlock thought, still looking at the cracker that he twirled between his fingers. _My transport is weak._ _This will help my transport. I need my transport to find Jo- the victim. I can't use my transport much until I replenish its energy. First step to solving the case then, is eating the cracker._

Sherlock steeled his mind for the assault on his taste buds, then closed his eyes to help diminished the things that required mental processing. He pushed the cracker into his mouth.

 _Focus- focus on the ingredients. Uh- flour. Not wheat flour, rice flour maybe? Hint of tapioca starch? Yes. Alright, go on... Water. Salt. Lots of salt. Come on, next thing. Umm... Butter. Just a hint of sugar, almost not there. Baking powder._

 _"Sherlock-"_

The panicked voice came out of nowhere, and Sherlock immediately jumped out of his chair.

* * *

"What's wrong?" Lestrade asked, having been startled by Sherlock's sudden movement. Sherlock raised a finger in front of his mouth, air rushing out of his mouth to make a gentle "Shhh..." sound.

"Did you hear that?" Sherlock whispered.

Lestrade shook his head, "What was it?"

"Someone is calling my name." Sherlock said. "Their voice is shaking. They're scared."

"Sherlock, I don't hear anything." Lestrade said. "Are you sure your not just making it up?"

"Do I seem the sort to make things up to you?!" Sherlock said, his irritation obvious even as he whispered. Then his face softened, fear leaking into his eyes.

"Jayden."

Sherlock took off towards the living room, his feet making almost no sound on the floor. Lestrade quickly followed him, albeit not quite as quietly. They peaked around the corner to see Jayden sleeping deeply on the futon, not a person in sight.

Once the rest of the flat had been checked out thoroughly, Sherlock glanced at the door.

"Outside! They must be outside!" Sherlock threw open the door running towards the street.

"I don't hear anyt- Sherlock!" Lestrade jumped forwards and grabbed Sherlock's arm, pulling him out of the way of a moving car.

"Will you be careful!?" Lestrade said. "I've already had one heart attack, and I don't fancy another!"

"But Lestrade, he's right there!" Sherlock pointed a distance down the street. "Can't you seem him? Can't you see his silhouette?! He's right there!"

Sherlock continued, pointing, looking back and forth between Lestrade's face, and the empty space on the road.

"Sherlock, Sherlock, calm down." Lestrade slowly, lightly set his hands on Sherlock's upper arms, just below the shoulder. He gradually increased pressure until he was holding Sherlock firmly in place.

"But Lestrade-"

"Look at me." Lestrade ordered. Sherlock's eyes reluctantly met his.

"There's no one there, Sherlock." Lestrade said. "There's no one calling your name, there's no one standing in the street. You're exhausted, you're malnourished, you're stressed, you've got a fever, your mind is just making it up, alright? Now let's go back inside. You need to get some rest, alright?"

"But-" Sherlock still stared out to the spot where he so clearly saw the outline of a boy.

"It's all in your head, Sherlock." Lestrade repeated. "Trust me."

After looking between them a few more times, Sherlock nodded hesitantly.

Lestrade tried to hide his sigh of relief.

* * *

 **A/N: Woah! So what's the deal there? Sherlock was... what? Hallucinating? Having a flash back of some sort? Dreaming? What's the deal?**

 **I've got summer camp starting tomorrow, so I'll be gone for two weeks! I'm really looking forward to it, but the down side is that I won't have access to internet. I'll give you a chapter as soon as possible when I get back though, alright? Cheers.**


	30. He Will Pay

Sherlock lay next to Jayden on the futon. The voice had started calling his name once again, after only a brief absence.

 _Not Real. Not real. Not real!_

 _I-I have a... fever? Right. Yes._

 _Lestrade said my mind was making it up._

 _He wouldn't lie to me, and he's slightly more intelligent than most idiots so..._

 _Lestrade is right._

 _Not real. Not real. Not real..._

Sherlock repeated this in his mind over and over, trying to convince himself of it.

He was met with yet another sleepless night.

* * *

Lestrade awoke in the morning and walked into the living room. He saw Sherlock laying next to Jayden, his eyes closed, but knew better than to suspect that the detective was asleep.

Lestrade stepped closer to the futon and Sherlock's lids slid open, revealing the spidery red veins that laced the white of his eyes. Exhaustion was clear.

"You never fell asleep, did you?" Lestrade's words were more statement than question.

"No."

Sherlock slid himself from beneath the blankets, and sat up, the lower half of his left arm positioned horizontally on top of his legs, his right elbow rooted in the upward palm. His right hand massaged his forehead.

"Sherlock..."

"Don't worry." Sherlock answered the unspoken question. "It stopped."

"When?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I didn't think to check the clock."

Lestrade noticed Sherlock flinch slightly as he pressed his palm to his forehead, but he didn't move away.

"Your fever hasn't broken." Lestrade said, withdrawing his hand.

"Would you have expected it to?" Sherlock asked, a slight bitterness in his sarcasm.

"Not really." Lestrade answered, walking over to flick the light on in the kitchen. After a moment's hesitance, Sherlock followed.

Sherlock glanced distastefully at the cereal box Lestrade was holding.

"Sherlock, I can see your ribs." Lestrade sighed. "At least try an apple."

Sherlock stood, and plucked an apple from the counter. After careful consideration, he bit into it, the crispness filling, and over powering his mouth. He fought the instinct to gag.

* * *

 _This is food._

 _Food is good._

 _I need food to think._

 _No, no- stop gagging!_

 _What's the matter with you?!_

 _It's just an apple!_

* * *

Lestrade watched sadly as Sherlock struggled, _struggled_ through a few bites of the apple. This was a testament to Sherlock's poor mental state, if nothing else. Sherlock was hungry, Lestrade could tell, but even the sight of food seemed to nauseate him slightly.

 _We have to find John soon._

After one more bite, Sherlock sighed, and sat the apple on the counter.

"Coffee, maybe?" Lestrade suggested.

Sherlock shook his head.

"I drink to much, and I start wishing for something a little stronger than caffeine."

A look of understanding dawned on the Inspector's face,which was slowly replaced by the same of suspicion.

"Still get cravings then, do you?"

"Sometimes, not often." Sherlock said. "Never very strong, easy to ignore. I'd just rather avoid having them all together."

"That's it?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Good." Lestrade said. "Tea, then?"

"Probably a good idea." Sherlock nodded hesitantly.

"You'll need the energy if nothing else." Lestrade muttered.

They sat at the table, Sherlock drinking his tea, Lestrade his coffee.

* * *

Awhile later, Jayden entered, his eyes still half closed with sleep. Sherlock watched as he walked directly to the cereal box, pouring himself a large bowl, the sloshing milk into it. He grabbed a spoon then sat down next to Sherlock at the table.

 _He's got a good memory,_ Sherlock reflected, a barely noticeable smile drifted onto his face. For a moment, Sherlock debated on touching him, ruffling his hair maybe, but quickly dismissed the idea for a reason unknown to even himself. He withdrew his hand, which had been creeping toward Jayden until this point. _Even half asleep, h_ _e knew exactly where everything was. John's not that good even when we're at the flat._ Sherlock's smile fell flat.

* * *

"Let me **GO!** "

John struggled against the ropes tying his wrists together behind him.

"You can't do this!" He yelled in rage. "This is kidnapping! I could have you arrested!"

"Name one person that you think would be stupid enough to arrest _me._ " Mycroft smirked.

After a moment's thought, John responded in a confident, even voice.

"Greg Lestrade." he said. "Possibly Sally Donovan as well."

"Lestrade does seem to be quite loyal to you and Sherlock. Alright, I'll give you that one." Mycroft inclined his head. "Now name a judge that would dare prosecute me, and a jury that I couldn't... eh... _persuade_."

John looked up at Mycroft with surprising calm considering he hadn't come up with anyone.

"I don't know." He admitted. "But you know what I do know?"

 _I suppose it would be entertaining to humor him._ Mycroft thought.

"What?" He asked.

The look of calm on the doctor's face suddenly changed to wrath beyond what Mycroft had ever seen on a human being.

"One way or another," John growled, looking Mycroft directly in the eyes.

"You. **W** ** _ill_.** P _ay."_

"Why should I?" Mycroft responded. "It wasn't my idea."

* * *

Lestrade pressed the end button on his phone.

"Anything?" Sherlock asked.

"Nothing." Lestrade shook his head.

"Alright Jayden, your time to shine." Sherlock said, taking a seat behind Jayden who was currently exploring Lestrade's laptop.

"Give me something to work off of." Jayden said.

"Temporarily closed train depot. Corrugated metal roof. Not huge, but decent in size. Within a... hundred and fifty mile radius or so." Sherlock said, subconsiously leaning forwards so that his chin rested on top of Jayden's head.

"Have you accounted for the storm?" Lestrade asked after a moment.

"Uh... Yeah." Jayden said, his focus still primarily on the computer.

Sherlock glanced towards the top of the screen.

"You're using the MI5 data base." Sherlock said. "How-"

"Mycroft left his laptop sitting in the dining room on one of his many, _pleasant_ visits." There was no way anyone could miss the sarcasm in Jayden's voice. "I happened to be bored. You know, for being a high up government official, he sure has pathetic passwords."

"That he does." Sherlock agreed.

After a few minutes, the computer beeped, and Jayden pulled up a picture, then slapped his hand down on the desk.

"There's our location."

* * *

 **They've found him.- A**

Mycroft slid his phone back into his pocket, and turned to look at John, who was once again, positively fuming.

"My brother's smart." Mycroft said. "He's found your 'location' earlier than I expected. I figured it would be at least another day or two."

John just glared at him.

"Just a temporary inconvenience, a simple adjustment of plans. No matter." Mycroft smirked. "The fun begins."

John yelled through his recently placed gag, seething with anger.

 _He. Will. **Pay.**_

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry I left you waiting so long, but I had a great time at camp. I ended up writing a song afterwards so that's what held me up. I realize this is sort of a filler chapter, but I had to get a few details in here that I felt hadn't been dealt with enough before. That's and I was really, really, _really_ wanting that last scene. So just stick with me. In the next chapter, the excitement begins.**


	31. The Life-Saving Red Metal Cylinder

"They're in there." Sherlock whispered. "I'm going to go in. I'll make things a little easier for the both of you to get in unseen. Wait for the signal."

"What will it be?" Lestrade asked.

"Don't know yet." Sherlock answered, "But I'll make sure it's obvious."

Sherlock peeked through the window again, daring to glance around a little longer this time.

"The guards are armed." He muttered. "Jayden, stay with Lestrade. Don't leave his side for any reason whatsoever."

"But-"

"No buts." Lestrade said. "If you get separated from me somehow, which will _not_ happen, get to the edge of the fight and stay there. Only draw attention to yourself if you're in trouble. We'll come to you. Do you understand?"

Jayden nodded.

"Good." Sherlock breathed. "I'm going in."

* * *

Sherlock carefully slid himself through a window that had been broken in the storm by a branch. To the side of the window he saw a ladder, which he then climbed down.

Surveying the area, he looked for something that would cause a big enough distraction. After a few minutes of searching, and becoming distracted by the nearly inaudible conversations of the people in the next room, Sherlock gave up.

 _I'm not putting up with this. We're going in, and getting John out. Simple. End of story. Who cares how we do it. I'll decide on my way back._

The wheels in Sherlock's mind were spinning as he slid back out of the window and dropped to the ground.

"What's the deal?" Jayden asked. "Did we miss the signal? Was the distraction not good enough?"

"As it turns out," Sherlock said. "We-" Sherlock pointed to Lestrade and himself, "Are the distraction."

Quickly catching on, Lestrade nodded.

"We go in, draw their attention, but make it look like we were intending on sneaking in." Lestrade said, "Then you, Jayden, sneak in through the window and free John."

"Alright, that's all fine and good, but how am I supposed to get John out of there?" Jayden asked. "The tape made it look like he wasn't in that great of shape."

"We'll work that out when we get there." Sherlock said. "We can't plan much more than this without more information."

Sherlock did a double take as Jayden grinned.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"You're just gonna fly by the seat of your pants, or trousers, rather, on this one, aren't you?" Jayden said. "I told you it'd do you some good to relax on the plotting a bit, didn't I?"

Confusion fleeted Sherlock's face.

"I don't understand." He said. "'Fly by the seat of my trousers?'"

Jayden rolled his eyes.

"Seriously!? That's not even an uncommon expression! Ugh." he said. "Anyway, it means to act on impulse. Make things up as you go along. Basically, my philosophy in life."

"No, I'm not doing that then." Sherlock protested. "I'm just... planning things very quickly. I have to, given the lack of information I have access to."

"Whatever you say." Jayden answered, raising an eyebrow, a small smirk coming to his face.

"Just focus!" Sherlock muttered irritably. "So you know what you're doing?"

"Yeah, getting John, trying to get him out of there." Jayden nodded.

"Alright then. You start hearing noises, you go up through that window, scaffolding would be the best way to get there unseen, if you're _quiet."_ Sherlock said. "And be careful. The last thing we need is you breaking your back. If you're going to fall off, try to break a leg or arm rather than a more important bone."

"I'd rather keep my limbs intact if that's alright with you." Jayden said. "I'll be fine."

* * *

Lestrade sensed a hint of anxiety in Sherlock's body language as he nodded.

 _He's worried about Jayden._ Lestrade thought. _Not worried that he won't be able to do it, but worried that he'll get hurt._

Lestrade's glance shifted to Jayden.

 _He's excited. He's got the same addiction to adrenaline that Sherlock and John have._

Sherlock gave Jayden a boost to the roof, which he then pulled himself up onto. Once he was sitting by the second story window, he gave Sherlock a thumbs up.

Sherlock looked back to Lestrade.

"Ready to get shot at?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be." Lestrade muttered.

They walked around to the front of the building, standing in front of the door.

"Three... Two..."

"One." Sherlock and Lestrade kicked open the front door of the building.

And then it started.

* * *

Jayden slipped through the window a few seconds after he heard the shouting.

 _Get John. Get John. Get John._

 _Right onto the scaffold, then left for about three steps once I get to the end, then climb into the room through that basement type window... thing. Then untie John, and get out. Use chaos as a cover._

 _Okay. **I can do this.**_

Jayden gently dropped himself onto the scaffolding, ducking low. He crawled along it, trying his best not to attract attention. He rounded the corner, and carefully peeked through the window, glancing around at what he was up against. There were still two guards in the room, and just like the picture, John was tied to a chair.

 _They'll see me as soon as I get in. I need a plan._

Jayden looked for anything he could use to his advantage.

 _Fire-extinguisher. Bingo._

Jayden grinned as he threw himself through the slim open window, rolling to his feet.

 _When they say it's not like they movies, they're right. It's more fun than that._

The guards jumped, clearly startled at his sudden appearance.

* * *

Sherlock pushed Lestrade behind a tool box, just as a bullet landed where he had been.

"And I'm the reckless one?" Sherlock muttered.

"Hey! It's not my fault I didn't see him shooting at _me._ I was a little more concerned for you. Didn't you see that guy coming up behind you?" Lestrade retorted.

"Yes, of course I did." Sherlock said.

Lestrade groaned. "No you did-"

"Lestrade, bigger matters at hand?" Sherlock said. "We can discuss this later."

"How about we don't discuss it at all?"

"Even better."

"Alright then, how about we discuss how you managed to get a hold of a gun?" Lestrade said. "I thought you didn't carry."

"I started while I was away after the fall." Sherlock answered.

"Why?"

"It..." Sherlock hesitated. "It was needed. Now focus. We can't stay behind here to long, or we'll lose their attention. We can't have them go back and find Jayden. He's smart and quick, but size is _not_ on his side."

"He is a bit of a runt isn't he?" Lestrade chuckled.

"He'll grow." Sherlock said, his mind clearly on the chaos going on around them. "Back out in 3."

Lestrade quickly counted the seconds, then jumped up from behind their cover.

* * *

Jayden took advantage of the guard's momentary confusion and tore the fire extinguisher from the wall. The men quickly made sense of the situation and came towards him, but unfortunately for them, Jayden was not unfamiliar with the workings of the extinguisher. The two guards were quickly enveloped by white foam. Eventually however, the stream of foam stopped, and Jayden was left with an empty metal cylinder, and two large, strong men who would not be distracted by wiping the froth from their eyes.

 _Uh... I did not think this far ahead... Um..._

The men, who suddenly looked very, very intimidating, backed Jayden towards the wall.

There were two loud clangs, as Jayden conked them both in the head with the fire extinguisher, which was still conveniently placed in his hand.

 _And Sherlock thinks it's bad to act on impulse._ Jayden smiled affectionately at the cylinder which had recently saved his life. He childishly stuck his tongue out at the two unconscious men on the floor.

A groan came from across the room, and Jayden's attention was brought back to the reason he had gone there in the first place. Jayden ran over to John, and pulled the gag from his mouth. John breathed heavily, head lolled to his shoulder as Jayden untied him.

"My... fault..." John muttered, seemingly deliriously. "Prank... my-my fault..."

 _He's been drugged,_ Jayden realized.

"It's going to be alright, John." Jayden muttered. "Sherlock and Lestrade are here with me."

Jayden's nimble fingers slipped the rope off John's feet after loosening the knot that had bound them.

 _ **"We're going to get you out of here."**_

* * *

 **A/N: I'm so sorry it took so long. I accidentally started watching "Bones" and I didn't quit for much longer than I should have. I also read a few fanfics that made me jump up and down with happiness. So... Yeah. You know how it is.**


	32. I Won't Be Alone

Jayden leaned John up against the wall, checking him over for injuries.

"Bruises and scrapes, but nothing too bad." Jayden muttered to himself. "Good."

John continued mumbling weakly, saying something about how it was all his fault.

"Stop saying that, it's not like you chose to get kidnapped." Jayden said. "It's not your fault."

"You... don't understand..."

"I'm pretty sure they gave you a sedative of some sort. Don't bother talking. I probably won't understand you. Just rest." Jayden said. "Sherlock and Lestrade will take care of the men out there..."

Jayden trailed off after hearing the click of the gun. Cold metal pressed against his neck.

* * *

Mycroft sat at his desk watching the happenings through several well placed security cameras.

He narrowed his eyes in confusion and surprise as the gun was pointed towards Jayden.

 _That wasn't supposed to happen. They're taking too much of a risk. No one is supposed to actually get hurt._

Mycroft made a grab for his mobile, quickly dialing a number.

"This is Mycroft Holmes, I demand that you have your men remove the gun from the back of my _brother's_ neck, or else you'll find it comfortably pressed against yours." Mycroft's voice was sharp and hard, clearly furious about his previous orders being disobeyed.

Mycroft listened for a moment before cutting them off.

"I don't care if you're testing your newer men, do _not_ hurt them."

* * *

 _They- they were faking it. They weren't actually unconscious, dazed maybe, but not unconscious. Apparently those goons were smarter than I thought they were. Ugh! I should have known that I wouldn't be strong enough to knock them out! How stupid can I be? They didn't even act well!_

Jayden slowly raised his arms to either side of his head, displaying that he had no weapon.

"Back away from him." The first guard prompted.

Jayden hesitantly stood, not wanting to comply, but not wanting to get his head blown off either.

The first guard nodded to his companion, who then reached down and pulled John into a standing position. A gun was pressed to his head as well.

"Cooperate," The guard said, "and you won't die. Probably."

"So reassuring." Jayden muttered.

* * *

Lestrade rammed his elbows into the ribs of the man behind him repeatedly. He doubled over coughing when the man's grip left his neck.

"You alright?" Sherlock called out.

Lestrade nodded, giving him a quick thumbs up, before connecting another assailant's head with the stock of his gun.

Sherlock looked as though he were about to say something, but when his gaze turned towards the back of the building, the words died in his mouth. Following Sherlock's actions, Lestrade looked towards the same area.

All went quiet.

Pushing Jayden and John along in front of them, the two guards came out.

Sherlock's eyes rolled over both of their faces; Jayden's was showing a look of stubbornness, but hidden well beneath it was the undeniable undertone of fear.

The doctor's was more one of resignation, as well as one of... What was that? Guilt? Anger? A mix of the two?

 _Not important._ Sherlock tried to drill into his mind.

"Drop the weapons, or we'll shoot them." The man, who seemed to be the leader of the rest, said.

It was then Sherlock and Lestrade came to the realization that they had been surrounded in the time that they had stared at the captives. Several guns were now pointed at the both of them.

Seeing no other way out of it, Sherlock and Lestrade slowly set their guns on the floor, keeping their eyes on the men. Sherlock's hand twitched as Lestrade kicked the guns away.

"Good. Now get onto the floor, hands behind your head."

Sherlock and Lestrade did as they were told, kneeling on the concrete.

"Alright, now stay there."

Sherlock closed his eyes hoping to help curb outside sensations. He needed to think.

Deja vu struck him like lightening.

 _A huge person with dark hair and wild electric blue eyes held a gun to his head, and arm snaked around his waist, holding him tightly. There were screams, three people fighting, yelling at each other. He could feel tears starting to snake their way down his cheeks, and he tried to rub them off on his shirt before anyone saw them. Before he could, he felt a large hand roughly wipe them away. The gun pressed harder into his head. He heard some blurred words, but he was unable to make out the meaning of them. However, the harsh and unforgiving tone was clear. Fear welled up inside of him, and it was that fear that he used to staunch the tears. He silently repeated the words that had been drilled into him since the day he was born._

 _'My name is Sherlock. I am a locket, and someday, my chains will break.'_

 _There was more to it he knew, but that was all he could remember._

 _He closed his eyes, locking his whimpers fear inside of his mind. He promised himself that what was inside the metal of his mental locket would never come out again._

 _C_ _old metal brushed past curly brown locks, crashing against his head._

 _All went dark._

* * *

Lestrade glanced over at Sherlock, who was mumbling something just barely audible.

"What do you mean?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock's head snapped over, and he stared at Lestrade confused for a moment.

"What?" He asked.

"You said, 'More to it.' just a few seconds ago." Lestrade clarified. "What did you-"

"No talking!" The guard demanded.

Lestrade mentally rolled his eyes.

Apparently the men hadn't planned quite this far, and were having difficulty deciding what to do with them.

* * *

"I said, let them go!" Mycroft said. "You promised me that no one would be hurt, and you have failed. Release them, or I will go down there and release them myself!"

Mycroft rarely got so worked up over the disobedience of his men, but that was partially because it didn't happen often. He knew he had run a risk when using men from a newer, more unreliable source, but he had thought the difference in cost would make it worth it. Though the world didn't seem to think it, Mycroft did make a monthly budget for his own spending. His parents were still living, it wasn't their money that got him here. He had worked to gain for his position, and only a minuscule amount of it had been pleasurable.

A switch flipped in Mycroft's mind, and his rage quickly turned to a calm.

"Alright then, if you're not going to cooperate, I'll come down there myself." Mycroft said. His voice dripped with venom. Mycroft's anger was like a poison. Invisible to begin with, but in the end, all those affected die in agony.

"I'll be there in less than twenty minutes. Expect me," Mycroft said. "I won't be alone."

* * *

 **A/N: I probably should have taken this chapter a bit further, written a bit more, but I wanted to give you something to read. I know I've been a tad slow lately, so here you go. I've been dragging my feet on this part, primarily because I've just had a lot of fun imagining the aftermath of all of this. If I'd just stay more focused I might actually get there some day.**

 **Thank you for all of the awesome reviews!**


	33. Philia

"Get me a chopper." Mycroft slammed the phone down onto the table. "Now."

Mycroft's eyes had a fire in them beyond what Anthea had ever seen. Mycroft was angry. So, so, angry.

 _Best not to question him now._ Anthea thought.

"Send squad 186 to John's holding site." Mycroft ordered.

"Sir, squad 186 was sent on the Siberian mission two months ago." Anthea paused, "They never returned."

"Right, right, send squad 290 then."

"They're in Germany, sir."

Anthea emitted a gasp, and dropped her clip board as Mycroft grabbed her by the upper arms.

"Send someone!" Mycroft growled. "Anyone! I don't care! Just _send_ someone!" Mycroft let go of her, pushing her to the ground. Her head hit the desk on the way down.

Mycroft blinked at the noise, his eyes widening when he realized what he had done.

"Anthea!" Mycroft reached to help her up, but she flinched at his touch, and Mycroft quickly withdrew his hands. "I-I'm so sorry- I don't know what got into me-

I-" Carefully, slowly, he reached up and brushed the hair from her face, noting the already darkening bruise near her temple.

"I'm so sorry..." He whispered, his gaze falling to the hand planted in his lap.

 _How could I do this? I- I hurt her._

A soft hand reached up, covering his own.

* * *

Jayden felt like pacing. He _really_ felt like pacing.

 _How am I supposed to think if I can't pace? Ugh!_

Jayden resisted the temptation to tap his foot.

 _Just nerves, just adrenaline, I need to calm down._ Jayden took a deep breath. _Think._

Jayden looked around.

 _Uh... Nothing near me that I could use... He's wearing boots, but I don't think they're steel toed. They're obviously old, but there's no outline of the metal. He's wearing a bullet proof vest..._

Jayden frowned. All of this seemed to come much easier to Sherlock.

 _Focus, focus._ Jayden reminded himself. _Alright... hm..._

An idea inserted itself into his mind.

* * *

He couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes.

Mycroft felt Anthea shifting next to him, pulling herself into a sitting position.

"Mycroft," Mycroft closed his eyes, chin pulling in towards his left shoulder. "Mycroft, look at me."

Slowly, Mycroft did as he was asked.

"It's alright. I forgive you." Anthea's voice came softly, gently even. Almost as though Mycroft were the one needing reassurance that this wouldn't happen again.

"But-" Mycroft said. "I hurt you."

"Mycroft, it's alright." Anthea said, a slight firmness entering her voice. "You're scared, you're worried, you're angry, and you're not thinking straight. You didn't mean to do it."

"That's still no excuse."

"You're right, it's not." Anthea agreed. "But you apologized, I forgave you, and now it's over. It's done with."

Mycroft's eyebrows pulled together in the middle of his forehead.

"I-I don't understand."

* * *

Sherlock knew by the look in his eyes that Jayden would soon do something. Something that would change things up, throw the ring back into chaos.

 _Think it thorough, Jayden, please..._

And then it began.

Just as the guard shifted positions, temporarily loosening his grip, Jayden stomped, catching the guard's shin all the way down to the top of his boots. Simultaneously, Jayden shoved his elbow into the man's stomach.

Just as the guards' attention left Sherlock and Lestrade, so did the guns.

 _I guess that's my cue._

* * *

A sad smile graced Anthea's face.

"I know you don't, Mycroft. But maybe someday, you'll learn." Her voice rose slightly towards the end of her statement, and Mycroft just listened. Seeing the still confused look on Mycroft's face, Anthea sighed.

"It's called forgiveness, Mycroft. Forgiveness, and love. _Philia_ love." Anthea explained. Her patience was continued, and her compassion emboldened by his lack of understanding.

" _Philia._ Love between... friends?"

"That's right." Anthea smiled.

 _He's finally getting it! He's starting to understand!_

"So that means that you're my friend?" Mycroft asked slowly.

 _Or maybe he's not understanding._

"I like to think so, yes." Anthea nodded.

"But I don't have friends." Mycroft spoke this in a somewhat questioning tone, as though he didn't quite believe what he was saying.

"You do Mycroft, you just don't call them that, and they don't take the traditional rolls of a friend." Anthea said. "Now come on, we have to go rescue your brother and John. We can discuss this later."

* * *

 _Focus. Focus. Focus._

Mycroft opened his eyes.

 _I am the British Government. I will take control of the situation, and put every thing as it is supposed to be._

 _I **will** restore balance._

 _I have to._

The chopper landed just outside the building, and Mycroft glanced at Anthea, who smiled, nodding gently.

 _My mind is my own._

* * *

"Get down!" Sherlock pushed Jayden down as fist whipped in his direction. "Are you paying no attention?!"

"I was a little distracted by the gun in my face." Jayden said. "One of them still has John. How are we going to get him?"

"No clue." Sherlock answered.

"And don't bother planning." The voice came out of nowhere, but was familiar to all in the room.

Every eye fell upon the intruder, and all action was stopped.

Lestrade's eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Mycroft?"

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the delay, band camp started. I'll be hitting things with sticks eight hours a day for the next three weeks!**


	34. Mistake

A guard took advantage of their momentary distraction, and grabbed Jayden from behind. Having dropped his gun in the scuffle, he pressed a knife to Jayden's throat.

"Sh-Sherlock..." Jayden's breath hitched slightly at the feeling of the cold metal pressed against his neck.

At the sound of Jayden's voice, Mycroft's attention was brought to the area.

"Release him."

"Why should I?" The guard asked.

Mycroft tilted his head down and to the side, before looking back up. "Alright," he said slowly. "release him, or I will force you to do so."

When the guard remained in position, Mycroft walked over to him, looking him straight in the eyes.

"If you previously didn't know, my name is Mycroft _Holmes_ , and I have two methods of achieving what I am about to do." Mycroft said. "I could make sure you don't get another job in this country ever again. Or..." It was at this word that Mycroft paused for a moment.

"W-what's the second option?" The guard asked, his resolve wavering.

"There is a small dart gun concealed in this particular umbrella." Mycroft looked down at it, somewhat affectionately. "And right now it's pointed directly at you. I could pull the trigger, have you kidnapped, then torture you. Now that I think about it though, I might as well just have you killed afterwards. You wouldn't me of much use any more, considering that you would no longer be capable of doing your job. Wouldn't be too much of a loss though. You're not too good at it even now. Hm."

Mycroft glanced back up at the man.

"Which do you prefer?"

The man immediately dropped the knife, and slowly backed away with his hands up and eyes wide.

"Thank you." Mycroft smiled, but it wasn't an average smile. It wasn't a 'sunny day' sort of smile. This smile was ice. This smile was a gun pressed against your head, or a thumb on the detonator of a bomb. This smile was recognition of where the upper hand lay, and it signified one thing. _Power._

All throughout the room every man's eyes turned towards Mycroft.

"I could do it to all of you if you'd like." Mycroft said, catching each man's eyes for only a moment.

One by one, every weapon was emptied of it's cartridge, dropped to the floor, and kicked away. Their holder's shortly followed them, slowly laying on the ground stomach down with their hands behind their head.

* * *

Mycroft's tense body slowly relaxed as atmosphere tightened.

 _Control. You've got control of the room now. You've got people's attention._

 _Don't lose it._

Mycroft opened his mouth to speak, but wasn't given time.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Sherlock demanded.

"Not that he's not thankful." Lestrade kicked Sherlock in the calf, shooting him a hard look before quickly looking back to Mycroft. "He does have a point though."

"Hm. Yes, well, my brother's never been the most _polite_ of people." Mycroft said. "And in answer to your question, I am here to rescue my imbecile little brothers and their pet policeman."

* * *

"No, seriously Mycroft, why are you here?" Jayden asked.

"Why don't you ask John to explain that to you, hm?" Mycroft said. "I'm certain he'll enjoy giving you the explanation more than I ever would."

Mycroft turned to John.

"Wouldn't you?" He smirked.

John shot Mycroft a hard glare, but when he felt Sherlock's confused gaze, he couldn't help but slowly draw his head to the ground.

"It- It was- All of this was- It's a prank." John muttered.

"A prank." Sherlock repeated.

John emitted just the subtlest hint of a nod.

"But it went wrong. I never meant for it to get this far."

* * *

"Well I'd hope not!"

A lens slipped before Lestrade's eyes and all he could see was red.

"Do you realize what you've put us through these past few days?!" Lestrade asked. His voice was one step away from shouting, and getting dangerously near that mark. "Did you even think about what it would do to us?!"

"I didn't mean for it to go this far..." John muttered. "Mycroft, he-"

"I don't care what Mycroft did!" Lestrade said. "The way it's looking it was your idea to begin with!"

Lestrade took a deep breath.

"Look, I know Sherlock's an annoying dolt, and with Jayden along side him they must be intolerable. But you just don't _prank_ someone by pretending to be kidnapped!"

* * *

Sherlock's mind went fuzzy. It just stopped working. He breathed deeply for reasons unknown to even himself, and he felt the need to shake his head to clear the cob webs. No whole thought could form itself inside his mind, and for a moment all he could do was _breathe._

* * *

Mycroft watched as his plan unfolded. Both Jayden and Lestrade's reactions were severe and Mycroft watched as the confusion laced their faces.

The confusion was turned upon himself when Sherlock's expression remained markedly empty, him being entirely unreactive.

 _I don't understand. Why didn't it work?_

Mycroft glanced at John.

 _And why does he act so guilty? It was I who put the plan into play..._

 _Lestrade and Jayden seem very unhappy with John... I never intended to endanger their friendship._

 _Did I take it to far?_

 _No, of course not. I planned it perfectly, right?_

 _But... Why isn't it working then?_

 _Why aren't they having the reaction I was expecting?_

Mycroft watched Jayden, but especially Lestrade for body language, trying to judge the level of their rage.

It was higher than he had even intended.

 _I have underestimated their reactions._

 _I have made a mistake._

 _An enormous one._

* * *

 **A/N: So sorry for another short chapter, but I keep finding these wonderful stopping points that don't always comply with my desired word count.**


	35. Difference

"There are lines, John!" Lestrade said. "Lines, that you just don't cross!"

"I know! I know it was a terrible idea to begin with but-"

"But what?" Lestrade's expression turned deadpan. "What is your excuse?"

John looked up to meet his eyes for only a moment, his lips parting to speak, but then they resealed, him adverting his gaze.

"Exactly." Lestrade spoke with venom.

* * *

It was awhile before Sherlock realized that Lestrade and John's fight had escalated, and Lestrade looked just about ready to kill John. The tension in the room was near unbearable at this point, the hostility... So _familiar._

 _Fear. Fear filled the room. It filled the cramped little closet they sat in. Arms wrapped around his own, embracing him from behind. He felt his head pressed between a person's shoulder, and their own head._

 _"It's alright, it's going to be alright." The voice was childlike, innocent. And terrified. The words, which were meant to be comforting, had little effect on the state of their minds._

 _"I-I'm scared."_

 _"I know, 'Lock." The voice said. "I am too."_

Sherlock's mind struck back to the situation at hand when the sight of Lestrade's fist rearing back for a punch reached his eyes.

"Stop." The word was nearly a whisper, yet it was somehow heard all throughout the room. Lestrade's fist froze in the air just moments before it would have collided with John's jaw.

All eyes were turned to Sherlock.

"That's enough." He breathed. "That's more than enough."

Lestrade and John separated themselves from one another, Lestrade willing his anger away. Sherlock's gaze flickered to Mycroft's.

"You've made your point, brother. You've achieved your desired reaction..." Sherlock trailed off as he looked back to Lestrade and John. "You've made one of my closest friends want to kill another, and the other, you've made want to let him."

Sherlock took a moment to breathe, to survey the happenings around him.

* * *

There was a tint in Sherlock's voice and a look in his gaze. It was something too powerful for description, yet too weak as well. It was a detachment, it was a distraction, almost otherworldly. It was as though he weren't entirely there with them in that place, in that time. As though a portion of him remained scattered throughout the ages.

"I agree, brother." Mycroft took notice of the difference his brother's eyes possessed. "What was meant to be accomplished, was accomplished. Likely more than that." Mycroft took a moment to study his brother. He studied the change that had occurred in him only minutes earlier, only to find that it was not then that it had begun. It had started long before this, when, though, he was unsure.

"Then you will let us go?" Sherlock's words were less a question, more of a statement of fact.

Mycroft lowered his head, thereby signifying their release.

Mycroft watched as Sherlock walked to John, who was leaning heavily on a wall to keep him in a standing position.

"The sedative has not yet worn off entirely." Sherlock spoke, examining John as though he were a palm sized metal ball sitting on a desk, a dull gleam reflecting the sunlight which touched it.

Sherlock took John's weight, pulling the near arm around his shoulders. While the touch granted him contained carefulness and gentleness, it held not the warmth which it had in the past. In it's place was the cold of affliction and the sting hesitation. While it wished no harm, it offered no comfort.

* * *

The ride home was somehow not a tense one. All of the participants were far too tired to be on edge. Their emotions lie dormant, hidden by the exhaustion that filled the atmosphere. Thunder rumbled in the distance and a light rain fell onto the windscreen. It served only as a reminder of the tribulation to come.

* * *

John watched as Sherlock silently tended to his wounds. Jayden had been sent to bed upon getting home.

"Why haven't you yelled at me yet?" John asked, after nearly half an hour of silence.

Sherlock looked up from his work momentarily.

"What good would that do?" He asked.

John sighed, looking to the side and shrugging slightly.

"Make me not feel quite as guilty, I suppose."

"Hm." Sherlock tied of the thread with which he had stitched a small cut on John's head. "You need rest. I'll see you in the morning."

John sighed once more, and nodded, before pattering off to his bedroom.

"Goodnight." John expected no answer, as he usually didn't get one.

 _It's not like I even deserve it any more._

* * *

A soft voice floated in from the living room.

 _"Goodnight."_

* * *

 ** _A/N: A short chapter, I know, I keep meaning to make them longer, but I keep finding such amazing breaking off points. Oh well._**


	36. Might Take a Bit

John lay awake in bed most of the night, wondering how he was ever going to repair the damage done. At around 5:30, he gave up the idea of sleeping and sauntered into the living room after stopping to make a cup of tea in the kitchen. He sat down, and momentarily considered flipping the telly on, but then decided against it.

He sat there, in the dark, until his phone beeped.

 _Must have left it in here. Hm._

For a moment, John couldn't muster enough care to read the text, choosing instead to stare at the phone as though it had offended him personally. When it beeped again however, John got up, and slid the lock screen open.

"From Lestrade." He mumbled to himself. Hesitantly, he pressed the messages button and read the text.

 _ **Meet me behind Angelo's.**_

John scrolled to the second text.

 ** _Now._**

Sighing, and mentally preparing himself for what ever was to come, John grabbed his coat and put on his shoes. He paused at the door for some reason, and after a moment's thought, left a note on the table for Sherlock and Jayden.

* * *

 _Sherlock,_

 _I'm meeting Lestrade behind Angelo's, not sure when I'll get back. Just wanted to make sure you knew._

 _-John._

* * *

John snorted at his own wording.

 _'Just wanted to make sure you knew' who to accuse if my body is found back there._

 _Not that I don't deserve it._

* * *

John walked up only to feel a shoulder grabbed and a rough hand pressed against his mouth. He was shoved up against the wall of the building.

"You will never do _anything_ like that again." Lestrade's words boiled with anger, his rage was heated instead of frozen like Jayden's was. "Not to him, not to anybody."

John remained silent, but accepting of what Lestrade had to say.

"Do you have any idea what you've done to him?!" Lestrade asked. "What you've triggered? What you've started up in his mind?! "

"Wait- what? Triggered what?" John asked.

"So you didn't-" Lestrade released John, a relieved expression coming to his face. "You didn't know, you didn't mean to. Good. I don't have to kill you now."

"I don't know what?" John asked. "What didn't I mean to do?!"

Lestrade took a deep breath.

"Awhile after you went missing, Sherlock started acting strangely. He'd be talking to us, then just drift off into his mind. He'd stare at something for twenty minutes before blinking rapidly and changing his focus. He'd get distracted, lose track of the conversation. Then the thing that scared me most..." Lestrade hesitated.

"What?" John asked. "What happened?"

"Listen, I don't know what to call it, whether it was a hallucination, a dream, paranoia, or something..." Lestrade said. "But night before last, he heard someone screaming his name."

"Who was it?" John asked.

Lestrade shook his head. "There was no one else there but Jayden and I, and Jayden was asleep. He thought it was a kid, he said the kid sounded scared. He ran through the house looking for him, and when he didn't find anything he ran outside. He was out of it. Not paying attention to anything except what he thought he was hearing. Took me a bit to convince him that it wasn't real, that he needed to come back inside."

"Pause a moment." John said, a fake smile on his face. He grabbed his phone, and quickly dialed a number.

* * *

Lestrade listened as John proceeded to threaten Mycroft in a loud and vicious manner for several minutes before hanging up.

John gave Lestrade another sarcastic smile.

"Now that's over..." Lestrade said.

"Sorry." John said.

"If you hadn't, I would've." Lestrade shrugged.

John nodded, then just leaned against the building, closing his eyes as he exhaled. Lestrade sighed.

"I can't believe I started all this..." John muttered.

"It would have happened eventually anyway," Lestrade said, "You know that."

John sighed. "Maybe." He said, "But still. I never should have even thought of the idea. I wasn't even supposed to actually leave Baker St with my plan. Sherlock wouldn't have thought I was gone for more than 10 minutes. Then Mycroft... He took over, blew it all out of proportion."

John and Lestrade stood there in silence for a few minutes, before Lestrade burst out laughing. John looked at him as though he were of extraterrestrial decent.

"What could possibly be that funny at a time like this?" He asked, semi-irratedly.

"Just-" Lestrade waved his hand in the air for a moment, seemingly at a loss for words. "This. All of this." He said. "It's just... it's a mess. I don't know. I don't understand half of what's happened, and yet, here we are.

"I admire your optimism." John muttered.

"Well it's either laughing or crying," Lestrade said, "and I don't know which one you prefer, but I'm going to laugh."

"Go ahead then." John said.

Lestrade's face softened.

"It will get straightened out, John." Lestrade said. "It might take a bit, but things will get back to normal."

 _"I sure hope so."_

* * *

John walked back into the flat, shutting the door quietly in case either Sherlock or Jayden was asleep.

He started towards the living room, only to bump into Jayden as he walked around the corner.

"Sorry." John mumbled.

Jayden just looked at him for a moment, then just turned around and walked away.

 _It's going to be a long day._


	37. I Know

John could hear the violin music coming from the living room, and noticed that he hesitated at the sound of it.

John sighed. He missed how it used to be, how when Sherlock would play he would with sit near by to listen, or get as far away as possible. It all depended on whether or not Mycroft was within hearing distance. Now... Now things were so much more complicated.

Four days had passed. Three days of Jayden refusing to speak to John, other than to tell him when he left the flat for some reason or another. Sherlock spent most of his time playing the violin in front of the window, not composing exactly, but just letting his fingers glide over the strings, going where instinct told them to.

Sherlock wasn't paying much attention to his musings of the violin, obvious by the fact that he would on occasion hit a sour note. He never would have had he been paying attention. But no, he was lost in the depths of his own mind.

As John watched Sherlock through the doorframe, he thought,

 _If only I knew what was going through it._

* * *

Lestrade sat at his desk once again sorting through stacks of paper work.

 _Wonder how I could hand this off to Sally..._

 _I need a good excuse._

 _Hmm..._

A phone call interrupted Lestrade's thoughts, seeing it was from John, he answered.

"How are things going?" Lestrade asked.

 _"That's what I called about."_

"Alright then, what's the deal?"

 _"It's been four days. Jayden still won't say a word to me, and pretty much ignores the fact that I exist."_

"Oh. Hm..." Lestrade leaned back in his chair. "And Sherlock?"

 _"He's been... well... Nothing. He hasn't really reacted at all. He doesn't seem to be upset at all. Just a little withdrawn. He's been playing his violin a lot."_

"And?" Lestrade asked, "That's a good thing, right?"

 _"I don't know. I'm just sort of worried he's just bottling it all up. I'm not sure how much of it is him actually not caring, and him being so angry he doesn't trust himself to talk to me without killing me."_

"If this was any other situation, I would tell you to stop exaggerating. However, it's not any other situation, and you're not likely to be exaggerating."

 _"You're really helpful, you know that?"_ John said sarcastically. _"Anyway, I've got to get this straightened out. I've got to fix this... somehow..."_

"I could keep Jayden for awhile, let you and Sherlock have a little time and privacy to talk it out." Lestrade suggested. "Maybe try to talk some sense into him while I'm at it."

 _"Good. Good. That's a great idea. When are you free?"_ John asked.

"I've got tomorrow off. I'll pick him up around noon?" Lestrade said. "I'll take him to Angelo's for lunch, or somewhere else if he's tired of it."

* * *

John walked into the living room.

"Lestrade just picked Jayden up. Taking him out to eat at Angelo's." John languidly pointed his thumb back towards the door.

Sherlock didn't reply, instead just staring out the window while sitting in his chair plucking the strings of his violin.

John sighed, then walked between Sherlock and the window. After a moment, Sherlock's eyes slowly flickered up to meet John's.

"We need to talk." John said.

"Hm." Sherlock just hummed disinterestedly in response, his gaze shifting away once again.

John moved back into Sherlock's line of view.

"Listen, I know you're still angry at me, and you have every right to be." John said. "What I did... it was inconsiderate, and cruel, if I'm honest. I don't expect you to forgive me for it."

"John-" Sherlock began to speak, but was cut off by John.

"Hear me out." John said. "Yell at me, punch me, slap me in the face, just react to it _somehow_. I can't believe I'm saying this, but you being quiet about all of this is making me feel worse than if I had been stabbed in the gut. So what ever it is you've been wanting to say, what ever it is that's on the tip of your tongue, just say it. I could leave for a few days, stay at Harry's, give you time to think it over, decide what you want to do about all of this. I know I deserve what ever you give me..."

There was a slight moment of silence as Sherlock's eyes narrowed the slightest bit with confusion, before a release of that tension.

John steeled himself for the words that would come.

"I'm not angry at you, John."

John nearly choked on his own tongue.

"What- I don't understand..."

"If I have been unpleasant to you it was entirely unintentional." Sherlock said.

"Then what's the deal with the whole not talking thing?"

Sherlock stood and walked closer to the window, putting the violin up to his shoulder. He gently pulled the bow along the strings, creating a soft, calm sound.

"I've just had a lot on my mind."

* * *

The relief that filled John's mind was nearly instantaneous.

"So you're not internally boiling with anger?" John reconfirmed.

"No, John. If I were, you would be the first to know." Sherlock said, pulling the bow along the "D" string this time. "Possibly even before I knew myself."

John exhaled, and sat down letting his body fall limp into the chair.

After a moment, Sherlock turned.

"I didn't mean to make you worry all this time." His voice was rich, deeper than normal from not having been used much in the past few days.

"It's alright," John sighed, "I deserved it."

"You didn't." Sherlock shook his head, then placed his violin back in its case. "I know you didn't mean for things to go far as they did. Didn't know the... trigger, it would create in me."

John frowned at the subject matter.

"Sherlock," He began, but Sherlock interrupted.

"I assume Lestrade told you?" He said.

Hesitantly, John nodded.

"I'm worried about you, Sherlock." John said. "What this caused, what _I_ caused, it's not normal."

Sherlock shifted his gaze away from John, towards the lower left.

"I know."

* * *

 **A/N: _Sorry to make you all wait so long, but I'm not used to the whole public school "Homework" thing. I've been homeschooled up until this year, so all of this is very new to me. I haven't had a whole lot of time to write between that and having band as an non-core subject. As of now, band practice lasts until 6:00pm. That's 4 hours of playing the same song over, and over, and over. Ugh. I both love and hate band..._**

 ** _Reviews please!_**


	38. It Never Happened

Jayden stared blankly out the window as he sipped his milkshake, only vaguely aware that Lestrade had begun to talk to him.

"What?" Jayden said, his attention snapping back to Lestrade.

"I said, you're going to have to forgive him at some point, you know." Lestrade sighed. "You can't stay mad at him forever."

"Says who?" He crossed his arms, his attention turning back to the window.

"It wasn't his-"

"Yes," Jayden stated. "It was, And you're not going to change my mind about that."

"Could you at least explain to me why you're getting so worked up over this?" Lestrade asked.

"Why I'm getting _worked up_?!" Jayden said. "Lestrade, my brother's best friend just pretended to be dead and make Sherlock feel like it was his fault for getting angry and leaving! From Sherlock's view, if he had stayed just a few minutes longer, than none of that would have never happened! But no, come to find out it was all set up, and now Sherlock's doubting himself because he thinks he should have been able to tell that it was all fake."

"Alright, good point." Lestrade conceded.

"I don't need your confirmation." Jayden said. "Why are you fighting on his side anyway?"

"Because I got his side of the story." Lestrade answered. "He went to Mycroft to ask for help in making his plan happen, but Mycroft took it over, made a lot of changes to it. In John's plan, he was only supposed to be gone for a few hours."

"Doesn't make a difference. Using his plan, or Mycroft's," Jayden said. "It doesn't matter. It still shouldn't have happened. Yeah, I get it, Sherlock and I are annoying, but don't you think faking your own getting tortured is a bit overkill as revenge?"

"That was Mycroft's plan, not John's."

"How do you know!?" Jayden said. "How do you know he's not lying to us about all this, just like he did about his being kidnapped?!"

"Because I know John!" Lestrade hadn't meant to raise his voice, and was startled when he realized the volume they had both escalated to. He glanced around to see the rest of the people in Angelo's staring at them. Sighing, he looked back to Jayden.

"Listen, I know you think that John shouldn't have done what he did, and I agree." Lestrade said. "I can't force you to forgive him, but please just try to look at it from his perspective. You and Sherlock were pranking each other, it was stressing John out, trying to find the pranks before he fell for them. He wanted it to stop, neither of you stopped when he asked, so he took it into his own hands. When his plan involved asking for help, Mycroft took over."

"And John let him." Jayden said.

"Do you really think Mycroft gave him much of a choice?"

After a slight hesitation, Jayden spoke, "I guess not."

"I've worked with John long enough to know what he looks like when he's afraid," Lestrade said, "and he was scared to death at that depot. Things weren't going according to plan, people were getting hurt. Mycroft kept him against his will."

"So... what started out as a prank ended up as an actual kidnapping." Jayden stated. "Well that got complicated pretty fast."

"You bet it did." Lestrade sighed, his eyes widening slightly in exasperation. "So, can I trust you not to glare at John every time he breathes?"

Jayden smirked slightly, his gaze shifting down to the table.

"Yeah, but don't tell Mycroft to expect the same treatment."

"Wasn't planning on it. I'd like to take a swing at him, myself." Lestrade chuckled.

"Why does he do things like this, Lestrade?" Jayden asked. "Why is he determined to control every single part of our lives? Can't he just leave us alone?"

"I don't know, Jayden." Lestrade said, "But I think there's more going on with them than we know about."

"You noticed it too?" Jayden asked, suddenly meeting Lestrade's eyes.

"What?" Lestrade started at the sudden change of mood.

"I'm not sure about this, any of this, but something about their family- _my_ family, it's just off." Jayden said. "There's tension there... tension about something. I don't know what; they're all too secretive to tell me anything. But I know Sherlock, Mycroft too I guess, and something's definitely up. They don't act like a normal family. There's something going on that they're not telling us about. I just don't know what."

* * *

"Is there anything I can do to help?" John asked, feeling helpless.

"I don't see how."

John sighed and put his head in his hands, elbows resting on the arms of the chair. After a moment, raised his head slightly, now propping his chin instead of forehead.

"Could you at least tell me what happens when you have those flashbacks?"

"They're not flashbacks." Sherlock shook his head. "They can't be."

"Sherlock, even you're not immune to-"

"John, what I hear, what I _see_ -" Sherlock's gaze shifted up, a confusion, a disfocus in his eyes. "It _never_ happened."

* * *

 **A/N: I was going to put a more detailed author's note about something... I don't remember what now. I got distracted by reading that last sentence a billion times. Despite common belief, authors also get that "Noooooo!" feeling that readers get when confronted with the end of the chapter. Ugh! I want to write what happens next!**


	39. Don't Worry

"Does Jayden know that this is happening?" Sherlock asked.

"No." John answered. "Or at least, I don't think so."

"Good."

"How-" John hesitated, "How bad is it? How often?"

"Just snippets, here and there. Even while it's happening, I'm aware that it's not real," Sherlock sipped his tea, inhaling the warmth of it. "but it... _feels_ like it is."

"What happens to you physically? Does you're heart rate change? Do you see these things in third person or first? What about your respiratory system, any changes there?"

"Stop mother-henning me, John." Sherlock said. "I'll be fine."

"Sherlock, you're describing either hallucinations or flashbacks, neither of which is the definition of fine."

"Maybe I'm not fine now, but I'll get through it John." Sherlock said. "I always have."

"I don't want this to be the time that breaks that 'always' Sherlock." John said. "You've got the help of others, why won't you use it?"

"Because I'm not sure it would do any good." Sherlock said simply. "If even I can't figure out what's happening to me, then how can you expect to?"

"I'm a war veteren invalided home from Afghanistan with PTSD and a psychosomatic limp." John said. "I think I know what I'm talking about when it comes to mental conditions."

"There is nothing wrong with me, John."

"Oh, yeah, like I believe that."

There was a moment of silence, tension still in the air, but not quite as thick as it had been the past few days. After awhile Sherlock spoke.

"I'm sorry you thought I was angry at you. It wasn't my intention to make you think that I was." Sherlock said.

"You don't need to apologize, Sherlock." John said. "I get it."

"So you do." Sherlock confirmed, slowly nodding down.

The place felt as though there was supposed to be snow falling down on them enveloping the streets of London in a soft, crystal white covering. It was a sort of tired day, as though all energy had been sucked from the earth, leaving no one with the desire to think or move. They ought to be sitting in front of a fire, drinking cocoa, staring at the flames.

"What do you see, Sherlock?" John asked.

Sherlock closed his eyes in a slow blink before opening them again.

"I don't know." He said. "I never get the full scene. There's always something obstructing my vision. The faces, they're always blurry, the voices, always partially distorted. I can hear just enough, and see just enough to recognize the scene as something I've been in before." Sherlock slid his fingers around the teacup, lifting it up just enough that a splash of the warm liquid touched his tongue. "But when I search my memory, no such thing exists."

"What parts do you see?" John asked. "What's the feeling associated with the... visions, I guess?"

"It's always cold, frightening, unfriendly, but... familiar." Sherlock said. "Usually someone else with me-"

"Who?" John asked.

"I don't know." Sherlock said.

"What do they look like?"

"A boy, older than me. A short, a compact frame. A soft voice, much more friendly than the others."

"What do the others sound like?" John asked.

"Angry, frightened." Sherlock answered, his brows pulling together in the middle.

"Who are they angry at?"

Sherlock's lips parted to speak, but then halted.

"We've got to work through this Sherlock." John said. "Who were they angry at?"

"I don't know."

* * *

"You finished?" Lestrade asked.

Jayden nodded, taking the last sip of his milkshake.

"Let's head back then." Lestrade said.

The car ride was a peaceful one, a lot of the earlier conflicts having been dissolved.

Lestrade glanced over at Jayden who was sitting in the passenger seat, and a smile slowly slid onto his face.

"What?" Jayden asked, one eyebrow raising, very similarly, Lestrade noted, to the way Sherlock did.

"Nothing." Lestrade said. "Just glad that we're getting this mess cleaned up."

* * *

Jayden slowly walked into the living room, slightly nervous about the conversation that would take place. He hoped John would be alone, Sherlock in a different room or something. He hoped everything was fixed between them.

As it turned out, John was alone, sitting in his chair reading.

Jayden sat down in Sherlock's chair across from him.

"I'm sorry." Jayden said suddenly.

John glanced up at the voice, his eyes squinting.

"For what?"

"For... for ignoring you," Jayden said.

"Jayden, I deserved that plus a thousand times more." John sighed. "I still do."

"No, I should have thought about what it looked like from your point of view." Jayden said. "After Mycroft got involved, you didn't really have a choice, did you?"

John shook his head. "Not really."

"Why would Mycroft do this?" Jayden asked.

"What do you mean?" John asked.

"I mean, why do they hate each other so much?" Jayden said. "What did Mycroft gain from this?"

"I don't know." John answered. "Satisfaction from knowing he'd outsmarted his brother? Something like that?"

"Sherlock was already stressed though, he wasn't at his best." Jayden said. "He achieved nothing but proving that he's willing to fight unfairly."

"I don't know, Jayden."

John stood up from his seat and walked over to the kitchen grabbing a cup from the cabinet.

"I was just refilling my cuppa," John said. "You want some?"

Jayden nodded, and soon enough they were both sitting with steaming tea in their cups.

"Where's Sherlock?" Jayden asked.

"In his room, I think." John said.

"Was he angry at you?"

John shook his head. "I thought so, but turns out he wasn't." he said. "He's just got a lot on his mind. Things will get back to normal soon, don't _worry_."


	40. A Breath of Frozen Air

The low, soft tones of the violin filled his mind as he slowly drew the bow across the strings. How strange it was, he thought, to not be able to control the feelings of your own mind. To watch your hand move, but not to remember flexing it. And now, to think without thinking, his mind still entirely consumed with the music, yet lost within the depths of his thoughts. His mind moved slowly, relaxing as the violin emitted a particularly low note. This caused the range of the song to lower to the collection of notes he called the _dark notes_. These were the notes that allowed him to hide in his mind, the notes that allowed him to be consumed with them, devoured by them. They usually retained his full focus, but now they just slowed his mind, giving him the few moments of the calmness, of the peace which he needed so badly.

The door creaked as it was pulled open, light entering the dark room. Sherlock held the note he had been playing until he reached the end of his bow, longing for the world to disappear, and for the peace to return. He opened his eyes, but continued to stare into the darkness, unready to face reality just yet.

"Sherlock."

Sherlock exhaled, knowing he was supposed to respond, but he couldn't find it within him to speak.

"Answer me, Sherlock, please."

Slowly, Sherlock lowered the violin from his neck, and turned to gently set it back in it's case. He loosened the bow and pressed it into its place.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock looked up at the familiar, concerned face watching him from the door way. He just gazed up at John for a moment, his eyes following the light that seemed to envelop John, lacing him in hope. He knew, logically, that it was just the light from the hallway, but it seemed to him that some of it came from John. As though he were emitting a glow, but only a slight one.

His lips cracked open ever so slightly as he began to speak, feeling the darkness settle inside him.

" _What is there to say?_ "

* * *

John wrapped Sherlock in a hug, but Sherlock didn't respond.

"You've been in there for hours, Sherlock." John said. "I got worried."

"It feels so strange." Sherlock muttered.

"What does?" John asked.

"I feel _empty_ , John." Sherlock said. "As though I have no thoughts of my own, and everything that I say or do is just something running through me, bouncing off of me. But there's nothing inside of me."

John felt a tear drip down his face. To know that Sherlock was suffering was one thing, but to hear him actually admit it was another thing entirely.

"I'm so sorry Sherlock." John said. "I wish you didn't have to go through all of this. No one should have to. Especially not you."

"You don't understand."

"I do Sherlock, I know what it's like." John said. "I've felt like that before."

"No, so have I- Felt like that before." Sherlock looked up away, staring at the wall. "Only it was colder."

* * *

"What do you mean?" John asked, brushing the tears from his face.

"I've felt like this before, once on accident, once on purpose." Sherlock said. "And now, again, on accident."

"Sherlock," John sighed.

"No," Sherlock said. "This, this is different, it actually happened."

Sherlock pulled himself from John's hug and began pacing the room.

"I almost remember it. I almost remember it." Sherlock muttered. "If only I could remember it..."

He continued mumbling this as he walked back and forth, growing increasingly more agitated.

"Calm down, Sherlock." John placed a hand on his shoulder. "You need to calm down."

"No, I've almost got it!" Sherlock pulled from John's grip and squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his fingers to the sides of his head.

* * *

 _The sensation of a gun in his hand._

 _A screaming woman standing in front of him, shielding her children with her own body._

 _"Please no! Don't do this!" She begs._

 _Tears run down her face in streams._

 _The sound of a gunshot._

 _The woman drops to the ground, landing before her children who stare at the corpse in terror._

 _He watches as the blood pool on her chest and drip off her clothing._

 _A jolt runs through his body, akin to an electric shock. He stares at the crimson blood on the child's hands as the boy tries to wake his mother._

 _A red hand print smears onto the woman's face as the older of the children caresses their dying mother's cheek._

 _He looks down and sees his arm raised, gun level and steady._

 _He had shot her in the heart._

 _He felt nothing._

* * *

The air around him froze in a moment, his face draining of blood.

He still felt the outline of the gun in his palm, and the slight kick as it fired.

 _"No..."_ he whispered.


	41. Gone

From there he just closed off. Sherlock shut down.

"What's wrong?" John asked.

"It-it was nothing." Sherlock dismissed.

"Don't lie to me."

"I told you, it doesn't matter!"

"Sherlock!"

"Just Leave. Me. Alone." Sherlock's voice forced. "Please."

John surveyed Sherlock. He was looking visibly shaken, and his face hadn't regained any of it's color.

"Alright."

"Just know that when you decide to stop being an idiot, you'll have someone waiting to help you."

"I'll keep that in mind." Sherlock stared off, clearly distracted.

John sighed and left the room.

* * *

 _No! I didn't do that! I-I can't have... Why would I-? It doesn't make any sense!_

Sherlock stared up at the ceiling.

 _Why can't I_ _remember?_ Sherlock thought. Then another thought entered his mind.

 _Do I want to?_

* * *

"Is he still in there!?" Jayden asked, rolling his eyes as he flopped onto the sofa.

John bit his lip in an attempt not to snap at Jayden.

 _Sherlock doesn't want him to know._

John had time enough to drink one cuppa while reading the newspaper before Sherlock finally emerged from his room. When he did, his fingers were flying across the screen of his mobile.

"Lestrade's got a case, suicide meant to look like murder. A fishy scene, seems like. Who's coming with me?" Sherlock still didn't look up from the mobile.

"Meet you at the door!" Jayden grinned, before running to get his shoes.

"I could just stay here..." John trailed off. There was a ding on Sherlock's phone.

"Nope, there's where you're wrong." Sherlock said, as he pulled on his coat. "Grab your things, just got another text, victim is still alive."

"Wait, what?" John's eyes squinted in confusion.

"In a coma." Sherlock said. "She's been poisoned... Maybe a murder after all. Interesting..."

Sherlock slid the phone back into his pocket, and walked towards the door where Jayden was already waiting.

"Ready?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh yeah." Jayden grinned.

John shook his head.

"What am I going to do with you two?"

* * *

 _Keep it in check, get things back to normal. Come on, act normal, think- normal. Push this from your mind._

Sherlock kept tapping away at his phone, trying to focus on the case.

 _It's poison, this is interesting. Chemistry, chemistry, chemistry..._

* * *

"Stop Jayden." Sherlock muttered as he stared into the glaring phone.

"How did you-"

"Just because I'm not looking at you doesn't mean that I can't tell when you are mimicking my every action." Sherlock muttered. "Do something useful."

"Like what?"

"Go over the case, go over what you know so far. See if you can form any theories." Sherlock said.

"That's sort of your department."

"I'm busy, so it's yours now." Sherlock said. "I need to know what to research, and it would be much quicker for you to come up with the theories, and for me to research them than for me to do both jobs by myself."

"We could swap?" Jayden said hopefully.

"No, you need the practice. Now go."

"Thanks a lot." Jayden mumbled as he stared at the top of the cab, hoping for ideas to come to mind.

"Could be... she came home, over dosed on some sort of pill." Jayden said. "Or... might not even be on purpose at all, could have been an accident, over dose on sleeping pills. Or murder. Could be murder."

"Attempted murder."

"Whatever." Jayden said. "If it was murder, chances are she'd know the person and-."

"Probability suggests that-"

"Will you stop interrupting me?!"

"No." Sherlock continued to type into his phone.

"Then at least stop correcting my statements!" Jayden complained. "You're almost as bad as Mom!"

Sherlock froze.

He was silent the rest of the trip.

* * *

Lestrade walked up to them as they exited the cab. Sherlock twitched as Lestrade grabbed his shoulder, tugging him towards the scene of the crime.

"I'm walking plenty fast, Lestrade." Sherlock muttered. "You don't have to pull me along."

"You'd be running to it if you knew what was in there." Lestrade said.

"You over estimate my enthusiasm." Sherlock said.

"I don't think so." Lestrade's eyebrows raised. "This one, this one's a masterpiece even I'll admit."

Sherlock took the last step, and entered the room. Immediately, his body stilled as his eyes were drawn around the scene.

There was a slight chill to the air and the place smelled... clean. Completely clean. Not the smell of a hospital, not of antiseptic, but the smell of air cleansed in a purifier. The room- _spotless._ _Perfect, and without blemish._ Perfectly painted walls, perfectly aligned books on the shelves, perfectly fluffed pillows, and a shining kitchen sink. The island, which joined the kitchen and living room, betrayed no smudge. The light lacked warmth, yet couldn't be considered clinical. It was simply cold. A shroud of mystery surrounded the area, and many a suspicion developed based on it's perceived perfection.

Sherlock slipped one hand out of his gloves and slowly slid his finger across a shelf, then drew it up near to his eyes which flicked from place to place as he examined it. He took a magnifier from his pocket and began to take in every detail.

"What are lookin' at, Sherlock?" Lestrade asked.

* * *

His gaze was unfocused. That was the first thing John noticed. Sherlock was either in his mind palace and wasn't paying attention, or was being pulled back into his own personal nightmare.

* * *

 _"Shhh... Calm down... Sherl- calm down!"_

 _Arms wrapped around him. Wet arms, slick with blood._

 _It was that boy again._

 _"I told you not to come out." the boy said,_ _"Come on, we've got to go. Hurry."_

 _The glimpse of a face, blurred by flash light._

 _Sherlock felt the rough forest ground beneath his toes, nuts and twigs digging into his feet._

 _"You killed him..." Sherlock stated. "You- You killed Daddy." He spoke in a child's whisper, the tone changed, but not the volume._

 _"I know Sherlock," The boy answered, but we had to get away from him."_

 _"We forgot Mum. We have to go back." Sherlock grabbed the older boy's sleeve._

 _The older boy stopped, and knelt to Sherlock's level. Softness, with only a hint of fear, graced his eyes._

 _"Mummy is gone, Sherlly, she's dead."_


	42. Hide and Seek

Sherlock's mind yanked itself back to reality, but it took him a moment to figure out what was happening.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock could feel John's warm breath on his skin, and turned to look at him.

 _Why is he so close?_ Sherlock wondered.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock met his eyes.

"You alright?" John asked.

Sherlock blinked a few times, but a little disorientation lingered.

".. Yes.. uh.. rabbit trails, sorry. Where were we?"

"Sherlock," John's concerned gaze told that he hadn't been fooled.

"I'm fine, John." Sherlock said, "Just-"

Sherlock turned his head down and to the left, closing his eyes momentarily as the scene attempted to take over. He blinked rapidly to clear it, successfully this time.

"If you need a minute," Lestrade offered.

Sherlock shook his head and stood up, "I'm fine now."

"You sure?" John asked. "You looked pretty lost there for a second."

"I'm fine now, all good." Sherlock flashed them on of his famous smiles, which John rolled his eyes to.

Jayden came jogging up to them.

"Why'd you leave me in the dust?" Jayden asked. "I was just asking a yarder a question, you could have waited a minute."

"Lestrade pulled me along." Sherlock shrugged.

Jayden turned to John. "What's your excuse?"

"He pulled me?" John pointed at Sherlock.

Sherlock shook his head, "Nope."

Jayden looked at John then said, "Nope." in almost exactly the same tone and manner Sherlock had. "Try again."

"What are you wanting me to say?" John asked exasperatedly.

Jayden just smirked, then trotted off to follow Sherlock, who was now inspecting a different part of the room.

* * *

"Nothing, there's nothing." Sherlock said. "There are no clues except for its perfection. I don't know how-"

Sherlock cut his own words off, walking backwards towards the center of the room.

"I-" He paused. "Ohh..."

"No." John said. "I know that look. No, it's not. It can't be. Not him."

Sherlock tilted his head to side slightly.

"I'm not saying it is, I'm just saying that-"

"It looks a lot like his work."John said. "No, you're not going to say that."

"Believe me John, there's no one else in this world who wants this to be his work any less than me." Sherlock said. "But just because I don't want it to be, doesn't change the fact that it is."

The tone of his voice changed then, losing its vigor, sounding tired, almost.

"You know as well as I do that we've been waiting for him to make his play for months."

" _Play_?! How long will it take to pound into your head that it's not a game Sherlock?!" John said.

"Game..." Sherlock repeated, trailing off.

* * *

 _"Just... pretend its a game." The older boy said. "Hide and seek. Just hide until I get back, and then I'll come and find you."_

 _"But how long will you be gone?" Sherlock mumbled, looking up at the stressed face above him as raindrops slid down into his eyes, blurring his vision._

 _"I'm not sure." boy said. "Probably only an hour or two though." Strong arms wrapped around Sherlock, lifting him up into an indented part of a building where an air conditioner once sat._

 _It's alright, just play the game and you'll be fine. Don't let anyone see you. You're safe."_

 _"Okay..."_

* * *

Sherlock came back to his wits more quickly this time, and was able to jump back into the conversation with only the slightest hesitation.

"Let's just do what we have to." Sherlock said, shaking his head slightly. "There's no way to know what he's planning, we'll just have to play it by ear."

"Sherlock..." John's mind wandered to the last time Sherlock had "played it by ear". His thoughts were soon interrupted by Jayden's zealous demands.

"Alright, newbie here!" Jayden said, waving his arms around in the air. "Will someone please tell me who "he _'"_ is?!"

"Moriarty." Sherlock spoke in a low tone. After a moment, he realized that there was just the slightest roll to his _r._ He froze.

This common, subtle shift in accent was one of the many remains of his undercover time in Serbia. Yes, he had spent time in other countries as well, longer amounts even, but it was Serbia... Serbia, that stayed with him the most. Even though nearly a year had passed, the place was always in the back of his mind, just sitting there. What he learned was just waiting to come out, and not just the good parts. Serbia had changed him. In some ways, for the better, in others, the worse.

Sherlock could only hope that what had begun to come out was for the better.

* * *

Jayden stood, staring back and forth between all the adults, wondering why they weren't talking anymore, and didn't seem to be breathing either.

Lestrade's response, Jayden could tell, was primarily based off of Sherlock and John's, as though he knew what had just happened was important, but wasn't totally aware of the reason of significance.

"So... if it is this Moriarty guy, how do we stop him?"

When Jayden spoke, it was as if time had caught back up, moving at the speed it was supposed to be.

"Don't know, you never know with him." Sherlock said. "He's always got something different up his sleeve, tricks... He's got a million of them."

"You don't mean we're just going to wait?" Lestrade asked.

"Of course not." Sherlock said. "I'm sure Jayden will think of something."

Jayden, still stunned at the sudden change in pace that had occurred when he spoke, took a moment to process what Sherlock had said.

"Wait, what?"

"Do try to keep up, Jayden." Sherlock said. "I know you're not an idiot, but you really do have a tendency to act like one."

"Could you please just skip the insults and get to the point?" Jayden asked.

"Ah, yes, back to normal then." Sherlock said. "You, Jayden, are going to figure out what Moriarty is planning."

"Why me?" Jayden asked. "You know him better than I do. I've never even met the guy."

"That's exactly the point." Sherlock said. "Moriarty rarely repeats himself, has a new pattern every time. I rely on peoples' tendency to repeat their on patterns, on their habit. I know what he's done before, so I will subconsciously looking for those patterns. You however," Sherlock paused, looking towards Jayden.

"Your mind is untainted," He said, "And I'm trying my best to keep it that way."

* * *

 **A/N: I have recently, very recently, been informed by a guest reviewer that my author's notes have been missed. Huh. I guess I haven't done one in a while, have I? I'll have to start doing them more often again.**


	43. Abstract Planning

"Just keep your eyes and ears open, and your mind alert." Sherlock said. "The pattern should make itself obvious soon enough."

"If you say so."

* * *

"Eh, Greg, why don't you and Jayden get started while Sherlock and I go and grab a bite to bring back here?"

Lestrade was confused a moment, but then understood.

"Sounds like a deal." He nodded.

"Come on, Sherlock." John started towards the car while Sherlock stood there momentarily in confusion.

"I said _come on_ , Sherlock." John paused when he noticed Sherlock wasn't following him

"But the case-" Sherlock began to speak, but was cut off.

"-Will still be waiting for us when we get back." John said. "Now come on."

After a moment's indecision, and a glare from John, Sherlock followed.

* * *

 _Please don't bring it up._

 _Please don't bring it up._

 _Please don't bring it up._

"Sherlock,"

 _He's bringing it up._

Sherlock mentally sighed as he slowly turned the steering wheel to the left.

"We've got to do some thing about this." John said. "We can't just leave it alone."

 _Stay calm._

"I'm fine." Sherlock's voice was low, his tone carrying a hint of restraint.

"No, Sherlock, you're not!" In the complete reverse, John's tone was free, and it was angry. "This is not something you can just brush under the rug! This is important!"

Sherlock took a deep breath and started to speak near the end of it, causing his tone to be airy.

"I know."

"Then why do you keep doing it?!" John asked.

Sherlock didn't answer, choosing instead to focus on the road.

"Don't ignore me, Sherlock."

"If nothing I say will content you, then why should I bother trying?" Sherlock asked, some of his irritation finally showing through.

John was silent for awhile, thinking of what was said.

"I'm sorry Sherlock, it just-" John hesitated. "It seems to be happening a lot. I'm worried that what ever's happening to you is getting worse."

"Even if it is, what is there that you could do about it?" Sherlock asked.

"Nothing, I guess."

* * *

"Pizza is here!" Jayden called out, grinning and grabbing a box from Sherlock. "Half pepperoni, half cheese?" Jayden asked.

"As per usual." Sherlock said. "Find anything yet?"

"I think so." Jayden shoved most of the first slice into his mouth. Jayden wiped his fingers on his pants before continuing to tap away at John's laptop.

It was silent just long enough that Sherlock was beginning to consider asking Jayden to explain what he had found; Sherlock didn't end up needing to.

"So," Jayden said. "I gave Lestrade a bit of a quiz on the cases dealing with Moriarty, but he didn't know a lot. Seems you two kept most of the details to yourself, not that that's surprising. Anyway, I noticed a connection between the cases."

"Which is... what?" John asked.

Jayden pulled up a few google tabs, then pulled up several articles

"You always caught him the same way." Jayden said

"Always when he made a mistake. You were always one step behind him, let him control the game. It was like cat and mouse, except the mouse squeaked past almost every time." Jayden said. "Now it's our turn to take the wheel and get the ball back in our court."

"Good." Sherlock nodded, "Let's get to work."

"But- wait a second, I thought we were looking for his patterns, not ours?" John asked. "It's what we've always done before."

"And you see how well that worked out." Jayden said.

A small grin snuck onto Sherlock's face as John looked slightly offended by Jayden's answer.

"Can you deny it?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, no, but-"

Sherlock and Jayden stared at John a moment.

John rolled his eyes.

"Alright then, what's your plan?"

"My plan is still pretty abstract, I don't have any details." Jayden said, his face coloring the slightest bit.

"Doesn't matter." Sherlock said. "What are we dealing with?"

"Well, I say we call him out," Jayden said, "chase him a little. He's never had his own game turned against him."

* * *

 _ **A/N: Okay guys, short chapter, I know, sorry. I just wanted to get something out for you. I've got Christmas break coming up soon, so I'll probably be able to update more often, but I've got a history paper to do over break too, so I don't know how often. Updates should increase in frequency some though.**_


	44. Peace

"Alright, so what's his game plan?" Jayden asked. "Give me a little more to go on. I mean, I've never even met the guy."

"You'd almost have to to believe him." John said. "He's twisted."

"We'll make a great match for him then." Jayden said. "Describe him. Goals, motivations, stuff like that. What does he want?"

"He's-" John began, but the ringing of his mobile cut him off.

"You should probably answer that." Jayden said. "Sherlock, go."

* * *

John walked out into the hallway and answered the mobile.

"Hello?"

 **" _Ah, John, dear, this is Mrs. Holmes. Could you get Sherlock for me, please? He wasn't answering his phone. I get the feeling he's been ignoring my calls."_**

John pulled the phone down to his chest, moaning "No, no, no, no, no." After a moment of self pity, he quickly brought the phone back up to his ear, fake smiling involuntarily as he tried to put on a facade of pleasantness.

"I'm afraid he's in the middle of investigating a case right now." John spoke, doing his best to sound convincingly at ease. "I could have him call you back later, if you'd like?"

 _ **"That's too bad. There is something that I very much wish to speak to him about."**_

"I could give him a message, maybe?" John asked, scrambling for purchase in the inwardly awkward conversation with his flatmate's mother.

 ** _"That would be most appreciated, thank you John."_** Mrs. Holmes said. **_"Could you tell him that I wish to discuss the possibility of his keeping Jayden awhile longer. In our time abroad my husband and I came upon a business opportunity that we wish to take advantage of, but it will require our being away awhile longer."_**

"Yes, alright." John said. "And if I may ask, how much longer are you thinking of?"

 _ **"Oh, don't you worry, just another week or two. I do hope he's not getting in the way."**_

"No, no, of course not. He's been nothing short of an angel." John said.

 _ **"Do you know how his studies are getting along? Has he been doing well in them?"**_

John froze, _We've totally forgotten._

"Uh... Yes, he's been doing fine. Very well, in fact."

 ** _"Ah, well I'm glad too hear it. I look forward to seeing the improvement when I return."_**

John swallowed thickly.

"If there's nothing more to discuss..." He said.

 ** _"I won't keep you any longer."_** Mrs. Holmes said. _**"Just remember to tell Sherlock to contact me later."**_

"Yes, of course." John said. "Have a good day, Mrs. Holmes."

 _ **"And you as well, John Watson."**_

John hung up the phone and sighed in relief.

Slowly, dreading the conversation to follow, he walked back into the room where Sherlock, Jayden, and Lestrade were working.

* * *

Sherlock felt Jayden staring over his shoulder as he drew out a web map of Moriarty's network, explaining the connections between them as he did his best to ignore the images that flashed past his eyes. Not all bad ones, really, some his time in the web was actually a bit pleasant.

There were times, only a few, but some, when he was calm. When he was at peace, and was willing to accept what ever fate lay before him. When he was done fighting, ready to take what ever was given him.

This peace came at a cost. When he achieved it, that was the price. For it never came when he was done and had no battles left to win, instead, it came when he had no strength left to fight. When this war of life had taken so much of him that he had nothing left to offer. Only when his will was lost did peace come.

He would die.

That's it. Fair and square, no twists, no turns, no way to escape the inevitable. Finally, he was going to be finished. No more fear, no more pain.

And then something happened. The guards would leave him alone for just a few minutes too long or his bonds would loosen and he could escape, or a team would come in and pull him out. When these things happened, when he saw the opportunity to escape or when he watched as one of Mycroft's teams poured in and got him out, he couldn't help but feel the slightest disappointment. _I guess it's not my day to die._

"What?"

Sherlock jumped out of his daze and back into the real world. Disorientation leaving a sense of panic behind with it. Not because of the topic of his thoughts, but by the fact that the impossible could seem so real and the after taste so strong. It took him a moment to figure out who had spoken, a moment to confirm what world he was in. He knew it, logically, but the hand that had slowly slid onto his shoulder while obviously there, didn't seem real.

"Sherlock, you alright?"

It was a strange sensation being panicked in one world, yet relaxed in another, causing a more exaggerated response in both.

"Sherlock?"

 _Should probably answer, real or not._

Another image forced it's way into his mind.

 _The scent of strong liquor stun his nostrils and fear laced his mind, a panic coming with it. Hands grabbed his shoulders and began to quickly guide him down the hallway, aiming him towards any room but the kitchen where a heated fight was taking place. Words he'd been told that should never be spoken were thrown around as if they were butter on popcorn, not just drizzled, but drenched throughout their screams, with at least a little sliding between every word. The anger wasn't sharp, it wasn't directed. it was blunt, and felt as though it were beating down on your back over and over, and over again. The hands that had been guiding him were suddenly ripped away and he heard a yelp of surprise, then a grunt of pain. The face of his protector was just as angry as it was fearful, and he crumbled in pain when punch after punch assaulted his not only his face, but stomach. When the older boy went down, the younger stared up at their attacker with simple acceptance. Fear in his eyes there was no longer, but neither was there hope. All that was left was acceptance._

"Sherlock, can you hear me?"

* * *

A nod, slight, barely noticeable, yet it confirmed that at least a portion of Sherlock's mind was with him.

"John." Sherlock said, his eyes finally glancing slowly away from the spot where they had been fixed for the past several minutes. After a moment, he met John's eyes, his expression there, yet still unreadable.

"You just... stopped talking, stopped moving..." John said. "I told Lestrade and Jayden that you were in your mind palace."

Once again, Sherlock nodded.

* * *

 _ **A/N: So, how'd you like this one. I'm sorry I haven't posted, I've been busier than expected, as well as procrastinating on my paper. Watching Supernatural on Netflix is much more appealing than the "Socioeconomic Inequalities Throughout the Industrial Revolution." I had a blast (in a depressing, sad, yet peaceful sort of way) and I'd love to know what you guys think of it. Do you think I'm putting Sherlock in his mind a little too much? Any scenes that you'd like to see? I'm always open to ideas.**_


	45. Calm in the Storm

"Sherlock, if there's anything I can..." John trailed off, sighing.

Sherlock didn't respond, but John could tell that he was with it enough to have been able to.

"It was your mother." John said, noticing Sherlock's slight flinch as he changed the subject.

"What?"

"On the phone," John said, "It was your mother calling."

"Why did she call you?" Sherlock asked.

"She said you had ignored her calls."

"But she never-" Sherlock paused. "Ah, that explains it."

"Explains what?"

"She never called, John." Sherlock let his eyes slide shut as he massaged his temples.

"Then why would she-" The answer struck John with vengeance. "That... that... snake!"

"Do be careful, this is my mother you're referring to. It is only socially acceptable that I defend her." Sherlock said, his tone nonchalant for his words. "However, in this instance, and most in fact, I do believe that term is applicable."

"She's just doing it to make you look bad!"

"Yes, I thought that was fairly obvious." Sherlock said. "You were paying attention to conversation during at our time at the manor, weren't you?"

"Not particularly." John said, somewhat abashedly.

"Really?" Sherlock rounded on him, somewhat defensively.

"Whatever she was talking about, you didn't seem too comfortable with so I just sort of... tuned it out."

"But you participated in the conversation." Sherlock said.

"With nothing more than a nod or smile if you remember correctly."

"I don't understand..."

"You obviously didn't want me to know what ever it is she was talking about, so I don't know it. I figured you'd be pleased."

"... I am... Just... Thank you." Sherlock was silent for a beat, then his mind switched back to business. "What did she want?"

"She wanted to talk about Jayden, ask you too keep him awhile longer. Another week or two." John said. John watched closely to the tension forming in Sherlock's body as he mentioned Jayden as the topic of conversation, then the release of said tension when it was said they'd be keeping him awhile longer.

"Good, gives me more time to figure out what to do." Sherlock said.

"What do you mean?" John asked.

"He's not going back there, John, he's just not." Sherlock said. "I won't let it happen."

"Sherlock, listen, maybe-"

"-Maybe they're not the same people as before?" Sherlock interrupted. "Didn't you see how he was treated at dinner? That wasn't even the start of it John. It will begin with small things and slowly grow and grow until... He's not going back."

Sherlock's body began shaking the slightest bit, hardly noticeable, almost as though he were shivering.

"Alright, alright. Calm down." John said. "We'll figure something out."

A few moments later the conversation picked up once again.

"What else did she say?" Sherlock asked.

"She asked about his studies."

Sherlock winced slightly. "What did you say?"

"I told her they were going well."

"Alright, I'll sneak them in somehow... Is Mycroft coming over?"

"Not that I know of, why?" John asked. "You know something I don't?"

"She might send him over to check and make sure we weren't lying about the studies."

"What?!" John said. "Seriously?! How are we supposed to deal with this?"

"Uh..." Sherlock shook his head breath locked in his mouth eyes staring out to space, willing himself to think faster. "I'll just have to read his books give him crash course version."

"You do youtube." John said. "Proof."

"Really, John?" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Of all things that could come to your mind right now? Did you never think that I could have read about it?"

"Ah, but you're not denying it."

"I'm not admitting it either."

"Either way, I win."

"Hmm."

John reveled in his apparent victory for a moment before Sherlock spoke.

"How far did I get? Did I give them what they needed?" Sherlock asked.

"You really don't remember?"

"I-" Sherlock hesitated, and shook his head.

"You did, but after a bit you sort of started spouting off positions and movements, orders, they sounded like. Then you just went silent." John said.

"Oh and I can't wait to deal with the repercussions of that." Sherlock said sarcastically.

"Speaking of which, what's the deal?" John asked.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked.

"That one wasn't like the others."

"You're going to have to be more specific."

"You were lost, very lost, but you were... calm, almost." John said.

* * *

 _What would John says if I told him? Told him, that at some points, I had hoped to die. Not because I wanted to really, but because it was better than living._

Sherlock felt his lips dry, and words stick to his tongue. He wanted to say something, but couldn't find it within himself to speak. What could he say that wouldn't put him in a mental ward?

 _John was a soldier, a battlefield medic in fact, surely he would understand- But what if he didn't? What if he didn't understand and shipped me off to some insane asylum? What if he thought that I'm still that way? Am I still that way? I don't think so. No, living doesn't hurt quite so much anymore. Hmm... Wouldn't it be so much easier that way though? Wouldn't it be less stressful? There would be no cases to stress over, no family, no Serbia... Nothing to worry about anymore. _

Sherlock's mind was emptied immediately when he caught himself thinking those morbid thoughts.

 _But what about John? I saw how messed up he became when I fake died. No. That can't happen. That would be selfish. But I am a selfish creature, aren't I? Still, it wouldn't be right. Never right. John's worth more than that._

It was then Sherlock knew that a thousand words could never express what he had been feeling during that... mental check out. Instead, he chose something short and simple. Something that he hoped conveyed his indecision, his lack of good answer.

* * *

"There's always calm in the heart of a storm." he said.

Sherlock looked up at John hoping that he would catch his trail, but he didn't.

"There were some good times then, in Serbia?" John asked.

"Seemed like it," Sherlock shook his head, "but no."

* * *

 _ **A/N: How'd you like this ending? I hope I didn't get too philosophical for you guys, I have a tendency to do that. I just wanted to draw out the idea that what seems pleasant and like a good idea at one point in time will be revealed as actually some of your darkest times in the future. I wanted to see Sherlock experience this, have him realize that even within his own mind, all is not as it appears.**_

 _ **I'd love to hear from all of you, hear what you think of where the story's going. I know the pace has been a bit slow lately, but it's a build up for something big. We're getting closer and closer to the climax each day. I already know what's going to happen, it's just a matter of getting the words out of my fingers. They've been pretty sticky lately, but today they just rolled off my mind. Anyway, have a great day!**_


	46. As Usual

"So, uh, you good to go?" John asked. _"Are you ready for the next mission?"_

Sherlock blinked a few times as the familiar voice entered his head. He couldn't help glancing away for a moment looking for the source of it.

"Sherlock?" John repeated. Sherlock's gaze immediately turned back to John.

"Uh, yes, sorry, thinking." Sherlock paused, failing to remember what John had said. "What did you say?"

"I said, are you ready to go back out there?" _"Ready?"_

"Always." _"Always._ _"_ Sherlock exhaled, slowly lowering his hands to his sides. He could almost feel the next word the next word that would come. That... slimy, cold, shivering word that gleamed in only the strangest of lights. _"Good."_ Sherlock could almost see it now, leaking from the man's mouth, slowly, almost as though he was mocking him. But then it didn't.

"You don't have to lie you know." John said, "Not to me. I know you're not. Why don't you go for a walk? Take a breather, alright? Goodness knows you've been drowning lately."

* * *

 _His lungs stung as he struggled against the hand that held him. He knew it wouldn't help, knew it would only weaken him, but panic had overridden his body and for some reason, all he could do was fight. He knew he wouldn't win, it just wasn't possible. But he would fight, he would protest until the the breath left his lungs and never returned._

* * *

"Sherlock, are you even listening to me?"

Sherlock's lungs quickly inhaled, and he was left involuntarily gasping, gulping for air as though he could never get enough of it. It was this tone, this desperation, that he spoke.

"Always, never, what's the difference? It's not like it matters anymore." He closed his eyes, tightly gripping a small ring on his finger, twisting it slightly. It was new, or at least John had never noticed it before. Then after a moment, Sherlock spoke more calmly. "What is to come, will. Ready or not."

* * *

"Maybe," John said, "but Sherlock, you're freaking out. Not visibly, not physically, but you're a mess. I can tell. I've been around you long enough to see it."

"Look John, just because you're having trouble processing all this doesn't mean everyone else is!" Sherlock cut himself off abruptly. The silence that followed was tense.

"Says the man who was just yelling, closing his eyes, and covering his ears to avoid hearing something that he doesn't want to believe." John said, his usually calm voice taking on a more aggressive note. "But no, of course you're fine. You're the great Sherlock Holmes, how couldn't you be?"

Sherlock didn't move to pull his hands away or open his eyes. No response came from him, no acknowledgement of John's words.

John sighed, irritated with himself now for letting his emotions get away from him. Slowly, he approached Sherlock who had finally moved to sit down in the chair by the table. His hands still covered his face.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you. Just-" John said, "I'm worried about you, Lestrade's worried about you, and Jayden, he's bound to have picked up that there's something going on by now. Something's got to be done about this, I don't know what, and it's not my place to decide. The ball is in your court, Sherlock, but you've got to make a move."

John sat down across the table from Sherlock.

"So," John said, "What's our play?"

Sherlock looked up, the gleam of tears in his eyes.

"I don't know."

* * *

"Something's going on." Jayden determined. "Something they're not telling us."

Lestrade shrugged, "What's new?"

"No, it's different." Jayden said. "Because this time, you're in on it."

"Jayden..."

"Why aren't you guys telling me stuff?!" Jayden asked. "What's so important as to keep it a secret from me?!"

"It's not my place to say." Lestrade said.

"Something's up with Sherlock." Jayden said. "Now either you tell me what, or I figure it out myself. And I will."

"I know."

"Good."

* * *

Sherlock closed his eyes once again, inhaling gently. When he opened his eyes once again they were calm. But the difference was more than that.

They were cold. There was no passion in his gaze. It was almost as though he had deprived himself of his will.

"Let's just go." He said, standing up and moving to the door. Sighing, John began to follow him.

When they got to the door however, he stopped.

"No."

"Pardon?" Sherlock asked.

"No. We're not going back in there yet." John said. "I'm going to text Greg, tell him that you and I are going for a walk."

"Really John, there's a case, remember?" Sherlock protested.

"Which Jayden has been taking care of by himself just fine. He can handle it for another hour or two." John said. "We're going to get your mind off all of this one way or another. You need some downtime. We both do. Come on."

"Do I get a choice?" Sherlock sighed.

"Nope."

* * *

 ** _Going for a walk, got to calm him down. Be back soon. -JW_**

Lestrade slid his phone back in his pocket.

"Looks like we're alone for awhile." Lestrade said. "Sherlock and John've taken off for a bit."

"As usual." Jayden sighed.


	47. I Suppose It Is

"Quit it."

"Quit what?" Sherlock glanced over at John, and apathy, with only the slightest hint of confusion laced his eyes.

"You're all tense, it's making me tense." John said. "Stop it."

Sherlock met his eyes for a moment, then just stared back out into the night. They'd been gone for a few hours now, having spent the last hour sitting on a bench in the park.

 _Lestrade and Jayden will probably be worried about us soon,_ John reflected. _We'd best be getting back soon._

John's gaze turned to Sherlock, quickly studying and evaluating his state of mind.

He was calm, not panicked. He seemed to be mostly with it, even though he seemed so far away. But still, there was that tension in him. He was wound up tight just waiting for something to set him loose.

"Is there anything you can do that is even remotely healthy that will help you to relax?"

"And legal?"Sherlock smirked.

"Figured legal would be too much to ask for." John said.

"Hm." Was all that Sherlock gave in response.

"In all seriousness though, is there anything?"

Sherlock licked his lips, then shook his head. "No." He sighed. "Nothing that meets that requirement."

"Then I guess there's nothing keeping us here then, is there?"

"I guess not." Sherlock combed through his hair, pulling his mobile out briefly, just long enough to see the lock screen. He returned it to his pocket.

"You expecting a text?" John asked.

"Not really, no."

* * *

John watched Sherlock as they slowly walked back to Lestrade's flat.

"Sherlock, out of curiosity, how are you feeling?"

"John, really? _Feelings_ , again?"

"I'm just curious." John said. "Say the first two that pop into your mind."

"No."

John stopped walking. "Hm, well, we're staying right here until you do."

"Really John, you're going to pull this on me?"

"Yep." John popped his 'P' just as Sherlock always did when he was being defiant.

Sherlock paced a little, tossing his hands to a moderate height, near his shoulders and head.

 _I've just got to wait out the fit,_ John thought.

"How do you know I won't just leave you there?" Sherlock asked.

"Because Moriarty is on the loose, and I think you'd rather not have me kidnapped again."

"Don't be so sure."Sherlock stood straight, staring down at the doctor, but John would have none of Sherlock's attempts at intimidation.

"Oh, but I am."

John looked up at Sherlock with a straight lipped smirk.

Sherlock's face broke its stony expression and he rolled his eyes, running a hand through his unruly curls in annoyance. The tips of Sherlock's fingers found his ears then quickly slid across his face applying enough pressure to temporarily distort his face.

"You know what? Fine." Sherlock said. Plenty of unspoken language accompanied his words in the form of flailing arms and a tossing head. "I'm... anxious, wishing that this whole thing would get on with it and move a bit faster instead of forcing us to wait like little sugar plum fairies, and I..." Sherlock paused a moment, stilling. His irritation from before having drained a bit, he was able to reflect a little deeper.

"I'm..." Sherlock sighed, "I'm tired. I just want all of this to be over with."

John nodded, mentally going over what Sherlock had said. "Alright." He said. "Let's go."

* * *

"What-" John hesitated, debating whether or not he should ask.

"What what?" Sherlock asked.

"Nothing, never mind, not important."

"If it remained in your thoughts long enough that you began to voice your question than it must be, at least in part, important." Sherlock said.

"What were those things you said?" John asked.

"Things?"

"The ones that sounded like orders." John elaborated.

"I suppose they were what they sounded like." Sherlock said.

"From your time in Serbia?"

"Or Japan, China, Russia, Turkey, France, Czechoslovakia, Iran, Iraq, or Egypt. Take your pick, could have been any of them."

"No, I don't think it could have." John said, "You-"

Once again John hesitated, remembering how it had affected Sherlock the last time.

"You used the same accent as last time."

Sherlock paused, "Yes, well," he said, "I suppose it was Serbia then, wasn't it?"

"Listen, if you ever need to-"

"I'm fine, John." Sherlock interrupted, then hesitated. "Or at least I will be."

"The accent-"

"I was in deep cover, alright?!" Sherlock said, then paused momentarily, his voice losing the passion and taking on more of a reflective tone. "Really deep. And If-" John nodded, prompting Sherlock to continue.

"If I didn't keep the cover well enough, then it didn't end well."

* * *

 _ **A/N: Alright, so I feel guilty for not posting quicker, but I couldn't find a good way to end this chapter other than how I did. Sorry it's short, but the next one should be longer. Please review, I'd love to know what you think of where I'm going with the story.**_


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